Untold Tales of the Black Magician Trilogy
by cece1994
Summary: "Did no one ever tell you? Fate isn't a set of rules. Fate is a set of dice." The complete story of the Black Magician Trilogy as retold through sixty untold tales that we never got to read (but really really wanted to!)
1. Something's Happened, Hasn't It?

Chapter One: Something's Happened, Hasn't It?

It is said, by the more gossip driven magicians who frequent the Guild's Night Room, that the High Lord of the Magicians' Guild of Kyralia knows more about the events of the city than the King himself. Whilst he knew this was not really the case, High Lord Akkarin let his 'little family' believe it. After all, what is more imposing than an all-knowing papa?

As a steady flow of sleet fell outside his study window, Akkarin sighed, put down his pen and rubbed his temples. The words to the write what needed to be a carefully constructed letter to the Guild Ambassador to Lonmar were escaping him this morning. The situation, though not particularly serious yet, was sensitive- Ambassador Ferill had been seen taking a little too much interest in an important tradesman's daughter. The incensed father had written directly to the High Lord to ask for his personal assistance in stifling the liaison, whilst keeping the matter private to avoid further discussion of the 'scandal', as the strict Lonmar tradition would see it. Whilst Akkarin normally found such frivolous disputes a waste of his already stretched time and, if choice allowed, handed it over to the Expatriate Administrator, he knew the girl's father could easily influence the trading between Kyralia and Lonmar to become… disrupted, until the situation was resolved. So rather than be on the receiving end of the King's famous temper over a trade block caused by a pretty girl, Akkarin wrote. Or at least tried to.

 _I really am a father to them sometimes,_ he thought, cursing Ferill's obvious good looks and winning smile for getting them all into this complication.

But it also gave him a welcome distraction. Two events weighed heavily on his mind: the first, and more important, was the fact that a Sachakan slave-turned-magician had entered the slums. Through his powerful sense for magic and his well-positioned spies, there was no doubt in his mind that the little dance that the Ichani had him waltzing every six months was about to begin again. His heart protested at the idea of killing yet another naïve young man, as they always were, but what choice did he have? Besides, he was a Warrior, a sworn defender of the Allied Lands. This should be an easy choice, defending what you love. But at the same time, he was glad that it wasn't. At least he hadn't left all his morals buried in the dusty wastes of Sachaka.

The second weight on his mind was the Purge. Akkarin was not prone to strong feelings of compassion, but there was something so barbaric, so inhumane about the way people were driven from their homes. He looked out at the increment weather, and grimaced. The idea of people being made homeless in such conditions as these was…unsettling, at the very least. He knew it should stop. He knew it shouldn't happen. Five years a slave taught him that much, that every human life deserves at least some dignity. But he was fighting battles on so many fronts these days- the Guild, the Allied Lands, the King, the Ichani, one more ball to juggle would prove too much. And the stakes were too high for him to lose control now. _But one day, I will. I promise myself that._

Sighing, he returned his attention to his letter. He reread his last sentence, and had a moment of inspiration. Nodding to himself, he dipped the pen in his inkwell and put it to the paper.

" _No doubt you are aware of the potential consequences of such a-"_

Then what felt like a crack of lightning lanced through his mind.

He gasped as pain filled his mind for the longest of heartbeats. He dropped the pen, causing it to spatter ink all over his neatly written text. As the pain eased, he cursed softly, realising that he would have to start all over again, but what that was not what truly concerned him.

What had just happened?

It was magic, that much was obvious. But how, where, and why did it feel so…strange? Akkarin knew the old saying that feeling magic was like feeling someone sing. This felt more like a shriek.

His thoughts immediately went to the newly freed Sachakan slave. But no, this must be the feeling of uncontrolled magic, not someone who was trained. Akkarin left of a soft sigh in relief- this was no rogue. But then the relief evaporated as the obvious question followed- if not a rogue, then…what?

He stared at the chair in front of his desk then, deep in thought for several minutes. Considering the possibilities, weighing up the odds.

A new novice? No, the Winter intake had all grasped Control last month.

An older magician dying? Again, no. No older magician died with the amount of power he had sensed. In fact, no magician currently in the Guild had that much power…His long fingers tapping the expensive oak desk and rain pattering on the window frame were the only sounds in the room for a minute or two.

He then suddenly looked up, a look of smug realisation in his eyes. He got up and went to the bookshelves on the other side of the room. His library on the second floor held most of his books, but he liked to keep his more valuable (and potentially controversial) volumes in here, away from prying eyes. Crouching to look at the bottom shelf, he found the book he had been looking for. It was a History of Magic, but not the one by Lord Delin of which there were countless copies in both the Magicians' and Novices' libraries. This was far older, and written by an non-magical Elyne scholar, who was therefore not politically swayed to write events in favour of Kyralia, or the Guild for that matter. He had found it in Lord Coren's chest, and had only read it once a long time ago, finding it not particularly useful compared to the other books which he had devoured for his personal requirements. But his long memory was trying to get his attention. There _had_ been… something in this book. Going back to his desk chair, he skimmed the pages, hoping to jog his brain. After several minutes he was about to give up, but then he saw it. He clutched the book a little tighter as he began to read.

 _The Natural- the natural is a curious phenomenon, most found in Kyralian magicians, but has also been known to occur in Sachaka, if the legends are to be believed. Whilst most magicians need to have their powers released by another magicians to be loosened, the Natural's powers become loosened of their own accord, but are often released in a moment of violence or passionate emotion. Whilst never common, the Natural occurred less and less frequently as the age at which magicians were taught decreased. Now, there are no Naturals in living memory._

And that had been almost five hundred years ago.

The rapid knock that came at his door ten minutes later was inevitable, unavoidable, but still annoying.

 _Naturals were considered important and powerful figures in magical circles. They were, more likely than not ,exceedingly powerful, and therefore found finding magicians willing to teach them an easy task. They often found themselves at the highest parts of magical society._

As he waved the door open with magic, he saw blue robes in his peripheral vision.

 _However, Naturals, whilst possessing natural access, do not possess natural Control. Considering their often exceeding strength, they were considered highly dangerous by other magicians until their powers were Controlled. In the unlikely event that the reader of this text comes across a Natural, I would warn them to treat him with strong caution._

"Something's happened, hasn't it?" Akkarin asked, not looking up from the page.

"How could you possibly-"

"Because Takan was under strict instructions to not have me disturbed. Besides, First Day mornings are your schedule planning time with Osen, and only dire straits would take you away from such pleasures. So, what has happened, Administrator?"

Lorlen was one of the only people Akkarin could truly say he loved, but even with him there were limits as to what he could be told without drawing suspicion.

Lorlen sighed, clearly exasperated.

"It was The Purge- some street urchin threw a stone at the shield, broke it and knocked Lord Fergun out!"

Akkarin almost chuckled. "Fergun, eh? Well, at least the urchin had taste."

"Akkarin, it's not funny! He could have been seriously hurt!"

Akkarin looked up at the Administrator then, and seeing the almost wild look in his eyes, smothered another laugh and snapped the book shut, and slid it into a drawer. He waved Lorlen to the chair in front of the desk, who sank down gratefully. His face was flushed, hair a little askew as if he had been rushing around, and slightly wet from the rain. "I'm sorry, Lorlen, it's just…appropriate. He wasn't hurt, then?"

"A little concussed, but nothing that sleep and some calm and quiet will not cure, Vinara assures me." Akkarin nodded. Now to get the details.

"So the barrier just…broke?"

"Yes, it was just a stone! They all tried to attack who they thought threw it, but got the wrong one. The boy they struck…" Lorlen grimaced.

"Ah." Akkarin sighed.

"The crowd turned into a stampede and ran, according to Lord Rothen."

"Ah."

"And the one who actually did it got away."

"I see."

"The King is not going to be happy."

"No."

"And I'm not either."

"I can see that." Lorlen rose and began to pace the small space.

"How could this happen, Akkarin? How could there be a magician in the city outside of our control?"

Akkarin paused, considering how his options. As Lorlen watched him, gripping the back of the chair he had vacated with whitened knuckles, he chose an answer within the narrow field of understanding that Lorlen had. _Let him keep his innocence, on so many levels._

"To start with your second question, there can't be such a magician. I would know."

"But-"

"And to answer your first, this could happen because it's not unprecedented."

"What isn't?"

"For magical abilities to manifest on their own."

Lorlen gaped at him, an expression of incredulity spreading over his face.

"What are you talking about?"

Akkarin held his gaze steadily.

"It's true. If you don't believe me, ask Solend. What that grumpy old man doesn't know about the Guild's history isn't worth knowing. Ask him about Naturals."

"Naturals?"

"Yes. Why would this dwell-turned-rogue magician choose such a time to attack us with so many witnesses and in such an odd way?" Lorlen considered.

"I suppose I don't know," he sniffed.

"The logical explanation is that he didn't mean to," Akkarin finished.

"You know everything, don't you?" Lorlen almost smiled. Akkarin held back a wince.

"It's a curse. Who saw what happened?"

"Well, only a few of the magicians actually saw the stone hitting Fergun. Only Rothen saw the youth."

Akkarin nodded slowly.

"Rothen, he replaced the Monster, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"A trustworthy source?"

"Absolutely."

"Good." He rose from his chair, deciding that his letter would have to wait. "Then we both have work to do it seems. Speak to Rothen and Solend, and arrange an Extraordinary Meet for tonight- say all must attend." He grimaced, smoothing his robes. "No doubt the King has been informed and has sent me his summons. I shall go and try and fend off his anger about the death and panic about this magic wielding urchin."

Lorlen nodded tightly.

"Very well. I'll do as you ask." He moved out of the way slightly so Akkarin could move past him to the door. The High Lord stopped in the doorway, turning back to give his friend a stern, yet soft, look.

"And try not to panic, Lorlen. We will find this boy soon enough and all will be well." He smiled crookedly, more to himself than his friend. "I have been through worse than this."

As he continued down the corridor to the stairs, he noticed Lorlen wasn't following. He looked back to see Lorlen smiling.

"Aha, well it turns out you don't know everything, oh mighty one." Akkarin frowned.

"Oh? What did I say?"

"Not a boy, Akkarin. It was a girl who threw the stone."

Akkarin let out a breath, and rocked back on his heels.

"A girl, eh?" He nodded to himself. "Well, that makes it all the more likely this was an accident. No one would train a girl as a rogue." Lorlen rolled his eyes.

"Now you're just being sexist." Akkarin gave him a haughty look.

"I'm being realistic, Lorlen, I don't mean to say I agree with such decisions." He gestured to the stairs. "Now come along and out of my house, Administrator- our little family is in need of its parents today."


	2. What Are Friends For?

Chapter Two: Disruptive Influences

 _"_ _I declare this meet ended."_

A few hours, and the stern berating from the King that he had desperately been trying to avoid after he had bustled Lorlen from the Residence, Akkarin stepped carefully down from the tiered seating of the Higher Magicians seats to the Front of the Guildhall and reached Lorlen's side. Lorlen was waiting for him, an expectant look on his face.

"Congratulations, Administrator, that was well handled."

Lorlen blinked and shrugged slightly. "I wouldn't really know, but I am glad you approve."

They slowly began to make their way down the main hall. It always amused Akkarin to watch the sea of multi-coloured part before him, like magnets were pulling them this way and that. If it didn't amuse him, it would bother him that no one seemed to want to stand anywhere close to him, and he didn't need another bothering influence in his life.

"Despite our plans, I do not care for the situation," Lorlen continued. "And I think I will be until we have this girl under our roof and our influence."

"Indeed, and even after we have her safely tucked away, she won't be unthreatening until she has learnt control."

Lorlen seemed to consider this. "You know, someone suggested to me that this whole business would be most effectively ended if we just...killed her. By apparent accident, of course," he said quietly. Akkarin looked at his friend with a mixture amusement and curiosity.

"And what do you think about that, my dear, gentle Administrator?"

"Well it would be completely wrong, of course," Loren replied, "but I can't say that I don't see the… pragmatic reasoning behind such an idea."

"No doubt this girl has made the logical conclusion that that is exactly what we plan on doing to her."

"Well, if you are going to throw stones at people who have done nothing to deserve it-"

"Ah, but she certainly won't it like that, my friend. We were in the process of kicking her out of her home, remember? But I agree, she is a little troublemaker, it seems, and would be a disruptive influence on our way of life here, I would predict."

Lorlen looked at his friend speculatively, one eyebrow raised. "Is that a bad thing? Is disruption a sin to be avoided at all costs?"

Akkarin shook his head. "On its own, no. In fact, I believe this place could do with being shaken up a little." He nodded to himself. Oh yes, he definitely thought that. "But you know the Guild as well as I, Lorlen. When change comes here, innocently floating in on some summer breeze, or indeed a howling winter gale, the blow has to fall by degrees or it won't be accepted. We must tread carefully in this matter."

Lorlen would never know how many times Akkarin had sat in his Guest Room late into the night, staring into the distance, most often with a glass of wine in his hand, pondering that exact phenomenon. Pondering how he would get around it, when the time came. And it would come, and every day brought it a little closer, like water lapping against stone until nothing remained.

"You would have her stay then, if can capture her?"

" _When_ we capture her, Lorlen- and why wouldn't I? It will be most amusing to see our soft little novices introduced to a real human being. And such potential should never be wasted, or Vinara will be beside herself."

Whilst this was all true, Akkarin has his own reasons for wanting this girl to stay. He knew such a mighty source of power in the slums was dangerous, and in more ways than the Guild knew. One of the freed slaves was bound to find her, and Akkarin wouldn't bring himself to think about what they would do to her once they did. Suffice to say, death would be a welcome release. No, he needed the girl where he could keep an eye on her, where she would be away from prying eyes and evil intent. He could only hope he found this latest would-be assassin before she found her. Or the Guild found the girl first, but somehow he doubted it would happen that way around.

"Well anyway, what happens to this girl after we find her is hardly the issue of the moment," Lorlen said.

"Very true, we have to catch the fish first before deciding on how to cook it."

Lorlen was silent for a moment. "What if we don't find her?"

Akkarin chucked softly at his friend's anxiety, and looked at him with fondness. He knew the Guild's Administrator probably better than anyone these days, and he knew that if Lorlen could find something to worry about, he would. Which was another reason to keep him innocent.

"Oh, you'll find her, one way or the other- though I'd say by tomorrow most will be in favour of the more spectacular, less fragrant alternative."

Lorlen looked at him, a grave expression in his eyes. "With all due respect, I certainly hope you are wrong, High Lord."

Akkarin only gave a small smile and nod in return, but was secretly also hoping the exact same thing. As they left the hall and walked through the University, a companionable silence fell between them. Magicians walked past them, but none dared disturb the pair, except for a respectful nod.

"Thank you for that tip about Naturals earlier, by the way," Lorlen said once the corridor was quiet again.

"You're most welcome."

"How _did_ you know about them? Solend said it took him hours to find a reference, and when he did it was on some obscure book I had never heard of."

"As I said, I am cursed."

"With what, exactly?"

Akkarin sighed, thinking quickly. "An extensive library and a long memory."

Lorlen chuckled. "Most people would see those as blessings, not curses. Don't you remember Director Jerrick's speech to new novices?"

Akkarin cleared his throat and put on his best impression of the Director Jerrick's stern growl. "The most important attribute of a magician is _knowledge._ " They both laughed at the impersonation.

"Ah, but Jerrick clearly never experienced what truly _is_ the best attribute of a magician," Akkarin said.

"And what is that?"

"The right to turn down marriage offers."

Lorlen smiled broadly as Akkarin grimaced. The High Lord liked to consider himself a patient man, he had to be, but even his composure had been tested by his family's desperate attempts to find him a wife.

"You'll be the death of your mother, you know, if you keep refusing?"

"I certainly hope so. If she wants grandchildren, she'll have to look elsewhere."

Akkarin thought about the women who had been presented to him, like horses for breeding. Enough to fill a ballroom by now, probably. All insipid, clueless with awful conversation. They were had been brought up from the tender age of five to believe it was their sole goal in life to marry as prosperously as possible, and spent the next ten years training for that goal. When it came to the tall, dark and handsome High Lord, all had failed. All would fail.

Because even if one of them had, by some miracle, made his turn his head the smallest fraction, he couldn't. Wouldn't. Daren't. The risk was too great. He wouldn't put another life at risk by joining it with his.

And, of course, there was there was…her. Her face appeared in his mind, a face that he had known so well once upon a time, but was being erased from his mind, like rain blurring a painting. Even if there came a day he could no longer remember her exact scent of her hair or the way she walked, he wouldn't let another pierce his heart the way she had. She would stand still and alone in his memory, a testament to the worst of times, but also to the only time in his life he had felt what all the bards wrote about, the joy of being in love and being loved in return. It was a painful memory, and yet treasured at the same time, and he let his mind be swamped in conflicting emotions for a few heartbeats before gently pushing them out of his mind, like closing the door on an old friend who is off on a long journey.

Another gentle silence had settled between the pair as they walked, the only sound being their boots on the well-polished floor and the distant hum of rain on the University roof far above them.

"Was the King awfully outraged?" Lorlen asked suddenly, breaking Akkarin's reverie.

Akkarin chuckled. "Oh, you know Merin, a part of him enjoys being awfully outraged" He sobered then. "But yes, he was. He made it abundantly clear he thinks the butt stops with me." He grimaced as he remembered Merin's words.

 _A soldier is only as his commander. A magician is only as good as his High Lord. You let me down today._

"I suppose he has a point, of sorts."

Lorlen made a noise of surprise. "He blames you? How could you have prevented this?"

"You'd have to ask him. Whilst he doesn't blame me directly, he blames me for not controlling Balkan better. But I'd like to see him do better, the man is a law unto himself."

Lorlen snorted. "And you're not, oh mighty one?"

"I'm different."

Lorlen looked at him for a long moment. "Yes, I suppose you are." He stopped walking suddenly, and Akkarin did as well, looking back at him in interest.

"Not that it means anything, but I disagree with His Majesty," Lorlen said slowly. "I don't think the butt does lie with you. This was an event unprecedented to this Guild, indeed it would have been to the Guild of our great grandfathers. We are all equally to blame in this, and I would be happy to tell him so."

Akkarin rose an eyebrow at his friend in mock sternness. "You would commit a offence that could be seen as treason, to defend me against our King?"

Lorlen smiled warmly at him.

"Of course. What are friends for?"

Akkarin felt a glow of affection wash over him. Words of gratitude had always escaped him, and this time was no different, though he desperately wanted to say something meaningful. When they came out, they always sounded so hollow, so…meaningless. He started walking again, Lorlen following.

"Hmm, well I suppose you do need to make up for the time that I took the blame when you accidentally set fire to Lord Charin's robes in fourth year chemistry."

Lorlen chucked, knowing this was as close as he could get to a "thank you" from his closest friend. "I knew you wouldn't forget it! To be fair on myself, that burner was always temperamental."

"And yet you ran away, and Jerrick gave me a month of gardening duties for it. Of course I didn't forget."

They walked in a contented silence through the main university corridor, quiet now that the novices were at study, remembering with fondness simpler times in their lives in this very space. As they reached the far end of the university, where they would normally part ways, Akkarin looked intently at his friend. The frown of worry on Lorlen's face hadn't disappeared since he had come to the Residence this morning. The Administrator was overworked as it was, not trusting anyone to do anything as well as himself, without this fiasco.

"Come have a drink with me, you look like you could use it," he said softly.

Lorlen sighed. "I would love to, but I ought to reply to some letters. I've already fallen behind because of all… this." He swept a hand in an impatient gesture.

"Get Osen to do them," Akkarin replied. "You really should get him to do more, he's quite capable now you've trained him up."

Lorlen looked anxiously in the direction of his office. Akkarin sighed and crossed his arms.

"Administrator, don't force me to be uncivil. Look, if you don't come and tell me all the ridiculous rumours and half-baked solutions our children have come up with in light of this drama, I will be forced to go to the Night Room to hear them. And we both know that will leave me cursing you and all your issue for eternity, so do you really want to risk that?"

Lorlen laughed, the frown dissipating.

"Alright, one drink."

Akkarin moved to open the University doors, then stopped with his hand on the frame and sighed. He looked at Lorlen steadily.

"For what it's worth, what you said before…it didn't mean nothing, Lorlen. In fact, it meant everything."

Lorlen just smiled, then nodded to the door.

"I thought we were having a drink, not getting sentimental. Like you said, I need one!"

Akkarin laughed, then opened the door, and the two friends walked into the night.

 **Hello! Firstly, thank you for reading this, and thank you to all those who followed and favourited. I even got a review, how exciting! I completely agree with you, allikka. I think the relationship between L &A is a really special one, and it's a shame we didn't get to see it in the first book. That would have made the blow of Lorlen's 'discovery' all the worse. As you can see this chapter is based around them again, but I am going to try something different for the next one. Hope to see you there! Cece xox**


	3. Everything We Expected

Chapter Three: Everything We Expected

"High Lord Akkarin of the Family Delvon, House Velan to see you at your request, Your Majesty," the young announcer called before scurrying away.

"You came then?" The voice, suitably regal in tone, seemed to come from nowhere, and echoed around the great room. "I thought you might not."

"Have I ever ignored a royal summons, Your Majesty?" Akkarin replied, still in the doorway.

"I suppose not," the voice said. Then a suitably regal man came into view, and Akkarin bowed, a gesture he was more used to receiving than giving these days. As he straightened, he noticed Merin was holding two glasses of wine. He held one out to Akkarin, which was excepted. "I wondered if you could bear to be in the same room as me after I berated you so last time we spoke."

King Merin was very alike to Akkarin in a lot of ways- they were both young, tall, slim, authority rested comfortably on both their sets of shoulders, but there was still a hint of boyishness about the monarch. Whilst Merin was clearly a mature young man who had certainly grown up a lot since the crown had been placed on his head, his eyes still held the slight twinkle of a maturity mixed with the foolishness of youth Akkarin had noted in the newly graduated magicians of the Guild. It had been many years since that look had been found in Akkarin's eyes, but the two men still considered each other good friends. Well, until the other day, that is. The two had never openly disagreed before. When they had had differing opinions in the past, they had always managed to avoid asking each other outright for the other's view, and it seemed to work very well for both of them. But this time, they could not avoid having a frank exchange of opinion which Akkarin, not being royal, was set up to lose.

Akkarin fixed the ruler with a steady look. "It is my duty to take such beratings, as you well know, sir."

Merin smiled then for the first time.

"As I well know. Still, I believe I was…unnecessarily harsh, to you in particular. I apologise, High Lord, I know it wasn't your fault. I was just shocked, that's all." He held out his free hand, which Akkarin took and shook.

"As were we all. No apology is necessary, but it is accepted nonetheless."

"Good." Merin turned and walked down the audience room to the august window at the far side, taking a sip of wine as he did so. Akkarin followed, admiring the room's splendour. It was designed to impress, as it was mainly used for when visiting ambassadors and even other royalty and their entourage came to Imardin. Five large white marble pillars ran along each side of the room, with the King's crest carved countless times into them. The marble pillars held up a high, arched ceiling, painted with scenes from Kyralia's history. Cleansed history, Akkarin noted. Whilst there were stain glass windows along down both sides of the room, each centred around a picture of one of Imardin's monarchs, it was the window at the other end of the room that caught the eye. The view was beautiful, an uninterrupted view of the city from the Inner Circle to the glittering waves of the Marina. The throne stood before the window on a raised dais. It looked surprisingly small and alone today, though Akkarin had been here many times before, both on quiet days and at great festivals, and it never seemed that way before, and he wondered at it. Altogether, Akkarin felt the room represented everything that royalty is meant to represent: simple traditions, but executed beautifully. From the blood red of the carpet at the centre of the room that changed from to a subtler pink as it reached the corners, to the walls that almost seem to shine from the gold wallpaper, he could understand why people believed the Kyralian monarchy was the greatest in the known lands.

"So, tell me of your progress."

"The boy's family have been found and informed of the particulars. They are, naturally, supremely angry, but willing to work with us to consider what a good compensation would be."

"A good compensation, for their son's life?" Merin slowed and gave Akkarin a dubious look. "Neither of us are fathers as yet, Akkarin, but even you should know that money cannot heal such wounds to the heart."

"No, but I don't see what else we can do…for now, at least."

Merin continued to give Akkarin a calculating look, which was levelly returned. The High Lord was very fond of his King. They had known each other since boyhood, and having grown up with him, Akkarin knew Merin to be wise, considerate, kind, but also able to make difficult and unpopular decisions when necessary. He wasn't one to back away from a fight. But he also knew that Merin liked to try and intimidate people, but was very dismissive of the people that he was able to successfully intimidate. So the High Lord trod a careful line between being confident and "going too far". Merin seemed satisfied with his response, and finally looked away.

"Well, that be as it may. How is the magician who was struck, Lord…?

"Fergun, Your Majesty."

"Lord Fergun, yes, he is recovered?"

Akkarin held back both a snort of derision and a snide retort, but kept both to himself and gave Merin a measured response. "Perfectly, sir. He is now helping with the search."

"Good, well at least there's that. And what of the rogue, the girl?"

"She's not a rogue, sir."

"Fine, whatever it is you said she is. You haven't caught her?"

"No, she has hidden herself away in the slums very well, it seems. It may take a little while longer to ferret her out."

"A little time longer, what does that mean?"

"How long is a piece of string, sir?"

Merin gave an annoyed grunt in response. "And her powers could become dangerous in that time. That's what you said to me the other day."

"Yes, I did, but I have every confidence we will find her long before her powers become destructive."

"Hmm." Merin looked out through the impressively build picture window, and Akkarin followed his gaze to the outer most parts of the city, his city. Merin sighed, and Akkarin realised something in that moment- Merin was truly worried. "A thousand places to hide. A thousand places that could be destroyed."

"I won't let that happen, Merin. You have my word." Akkarin was surprised by the gentleness of his voice.

Merin's head turned slightly at the use of his name, but he didn't look at Akkarin.

"I will hold you to that, High Lord" he murmured. They looked out of the window together, watching the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon. It had been a long day for both of them.

Merin took in a deep breath. "The Master of International Trade has asked that the port be reopened. Is demanding it, actually. I have given him my assurances that it will be reopened tomorrow."

Akkarin was surprised by this, and responded quickly. "Your Majesty, I would respectfully ask you to hold off its reopening until we've at least had a chance-"

"We cannot risk trade being disrupted any longer, or our buyers will go elsewhere. Merchants are impatient, fickle people." Merin passed a hand over his face before draining the last of the wine in his glass. "I understand this is not what you want to hear, Akkarin, but you have to understand that I'm having to balance the opinions and desires of many, many different people throughout this." He turned from the window. "Do I have your assent?"

Akkarin was amused by this. "Do you need it?"

"No, obviously. But I should like to have it regardless."

Akkarin was silent for a moment, thinking through the decision. "As you wish, sir. After all, I doubt an embargo would stop her if she was determined."

"My thoughts exactly."

Akkarin regarded the King. Merin, whilst clearly worried, was not being ruled by the emotion. No, he was being ruled by something else: determination.

No one had expected Merin to take up his father's empty throne so young, at barely four and twenty, but his father had died suddenly from the Sleeping Sickness that had taken many men of the same age. The six years that had passed since then had been relatively straightforward. A few House rifts had made ripples into the usual gentle lake that was Court, a few acts of government had controversially been passed or rejected, and, of course, the Purge continued. But nothing had happened to test the resilience of the young monarch. This would be Merin's first test, and from the steely expression Akkarin could see in the young man's profile, eyes glittering in the dusk light, he was determined to come out victorious. Arguing with him at this point would be a futile endeavour, so why bother?

Silence then engulfed them. Despite their friendship, it wasn't the easy, unhurried silence Akkarin found with Lorlen, but the silence of two people who have run out of things to say. Akkarin was a little disappointed by this realisation. It occurred to him them that it seemed that this 'situation', as everyone kept calling it, seemed to have put the King and himself on different sides of the table. The King saw himself as the defender against this girl, whilst he saw Akkarin as her defender. Which was ridiculous, of course. Akkarin wanted this problem resolved peacefully as much as the King did, and it offended him that the King thought he would go to violent lengths to harbour such a valuable reward. He decided he would have to rise above it, and prove to Merin that he was capable of getting this girl with no further bloodshed. He also decided that he had had enough- with the King's impatience to get the city back to normal, the Guild had less time to take the opportunity of a less chaotic city in which to hunt around. Now, with everything settling back to its normal routine, the girl could slip into the crowd as easily as a drop of water in the ocean, and no one would notice the difference. He needed to get back to the safety of the Guild to plan. He also needed to get back out into the slums himself. He needed to check in on his informers to make sure they hadn't seen any of the warning signs he had to associate with a Sachakan on the prowl.

He finished his wine and cleared his throat. "Well, if that will be all, Your Majesty, I should return to the Guild and inform the Higher Magicians of this decision. We may need to alter our plans, and they will all be convening in the Night Room as we speak."

"Oh yes, the weekly Night Room gathering. I know you enjoy them, so I won't keep you from it any longer," Merin smiled, that youthful twinkle in his eye returned. Akkarin let his eyes roll slightly, and Merin laughed. "Well, at any rate, thank you for coming, High Lord. I do appreciate you taking the time, I know you must be a busy as I with all this. Keep me informed of your progress, if you would."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Akkarin bowed again, turned and strode back down the audience room, putting his empty wine glass down on a table as he did so.

"Oh, and Akkarin?"

Akkarin turned. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

The King had once again disappeared, so only his voice remained, bouncing around the room. "Please don't make me become the butt of jokes around the Allied Lands- find this girl before she makes a mockery of all of us."

"I will certainly endeavour to do so."

Striding out the room, Akkarin sighed heavily and sent out a mental call.

 _-Lorlen!_

 _-Akkarin._

 _-I've just finished my audience with the King and have news. Where are you?_

 _-Just about to head to the Night Room. Shall I wait for you?_

 _-Would you? I won't be long._

 _-Then I shall wait for you in my office. How was the King?_

 _-Everything we expected._

 _-Ah._

 **Hello again, everyone, welcome back! My sincere thanks for staying with me. My special thanks to all those who reviewed (your views mean so much), favourited and followed. It all helps keep the mind focused. If any of you have requests for ideas, now you get the idea of what I like to write, do send me yours. I'm always up for a challenge! Love, Cece xox**


	4. Any Port In A Storm

Chapter Four: Any Port In A Storm

 _And this is the exact reason I don't come to the Night Room._

No one was talking, not really. Of course, there was conversation going on, but it possible to tell that no one was concentrating on what they were saying or listening to their companions. They were far too interested in the Night Room's infrequent, but highly sought after, visitor.

Akkarin quietly took in a deep breath and released it slowly. This was his job- to occasionally let his 'family' know that he was present and cared out them, and in return they would irritate and cajole him to distraction.

 _Why does anyone become a parent?_

But, considering all the tasks he had had to do in his life, and there had been some worse than dire ones, he probably shouldn't complain about sitting in a comfortable chair and drinking expensive wine.

And, of course, put up with the rather odious comments coming from the man sat opposite him. Fergun. Even Lorlen, one of the most patient, docile men Akkarin knew, was ruffled after a few minutes conversation with the young warrior. He had thrown himself down into the empty chair with them, like a soldier weary from a long battle, and hadn't stopped talking since. About what, Akkarin had no idea, he had stopped paying attention a dozen idiotic beliefs before.

Akkarin observed the young warrior. 'Oily' was the word. It wasn't just the fair hair that was obviously well groomed and slicked into position, but the way his languid body language was clearly keen to impress. And his voice. Akkarin was never quite sure which was more irritating, the sound of Fergun's voice, or the things the voice said.

"I think it's the smell that's worst. Either that or the sludge one must walk through to get anywhere. These people, if you can call them that, are quite unhygienic."

Akkarin watched Lorlen with amusement. He saw him look up and around the room for a distraction.

 _Any port in a storm…_

"Ah! There is Lord Rothen and Lord Dannyl. I shall invite them over."

 _-Dannyl. Rothen, I would like to speak to you_. Akkarin heard Lorlen send. He heard Fergun make a small noise of disgust, but he was obviously not brave enough to voice his thoughts. As Rothen and Dannyl made their way over, Fergun had one last point to make, still desperate to impress, it seemed.

"The slums are an ugly stain on this city. They are a nest of crime and disease. The king should never have let them grow so large. This is the perfect opportunity to rid Imardin of them."

 _Now that was brave_ , Akkarin thought, _or incredibly thoughtless, to insult the monarch, and in front of someone who has weekly meetings with him._

Lorlen obviously felt he had to reply to Fergun in some way, for the sake of etiquette.

"How do you propose he do that, Lord Fergun?" he said, in a voice that Akkarin knew well, a voice that showed that Lorlen was trying to remain unaffected, but Akkarin knew his friend's compassionate nature must have been touched.

"It would not be hard to clear the area," Fergun was saying. "The houses are not particularly well made, and it would take little effort to collapse the tunnels beneath them."

 _Yes, about the same amount of effort it would take me to beat you in a Challenge, you ridiculous man._

"…There are some areas in the slums that look little different to the quarters. The buildings are well made and the streets have effective drainage. The occupants of these areas have started referring to the slums as the Outer Circle." Lorlen replied. Akkarin noticed he was holding his wine glass a little harder than necessary, but otherwise remained unaffected.

"But even those houses have hidden passages beneath them. I assure you, their occupants are the most suspicious people. Any house built on top of such tunnels should be assumed to be part of a criminal conspiracy."

Even Akkarin was unable to not react to this. He looked at Lorlen, and Lorlen looked toward him. No words needed to be said, or even thought, each knew exactly what the other was thinking.

 _What a moron._

But the Administrator had had enough. He gave Fergun a cold stare.

 _I could put him out of his misery, by mentioning her Presence… but no, not yet. Let us see what Rothen and his apprentice have to say…_

"If only the problem of the Thieves could be solved so easily," he said, looking towards the newcomers to the conversation. "Good evening, Lord Rothen and Lord Dannyl." Fergun also looked up, and his smile spoke of his pleasure at being given another opportunity to show off.

"Ah, Lord Rothen." He said. Akkarin was close to rolling his eyes. Fergun obviously was still enticed to play a novice's prank of pretending someone didn't exist. Dannyl bristled slightly, but managed to keep his composure.

"Good evening, High Lord, Administrator," Rothen was saying, "And Lord Fergun. Are you feeling better?"

 _Feeling better? Children have been more hurt playing ball…_

"Yes, yes, thank you for enquiring," Fergun replied, obviously pleased that Rothen had mentioned his 'sacrifice' in front of Higher Magicians.

Lorlen was obviously keen to move the conversation away from Fergun.

"I noticed that you both stayed in the slums longer than most others today. Did you discover any clues to this girl's whereabouts?"

Akkarin leaned back in his chair and listened as the older of the pair answered the question.

"I am afraid not, Administrator. We searched about half the houses in the slums altogether, but there was no sign of her and no sign she had been there. I am afraid that if she hears this she will go back to an area we have already searched, as it is not news that the people in the slums are loath to help us. There also may be areas of the slums we don't even know exist. As Dannyl said to me earlier, it is reminiscent of an harrel warren."

Lorlen's face showed signs of disappointment in this answer.

"From descriptions I've heard of the slums, I can't see how we'll ever find her _." From descriptions?! I need to get you out of the Guild more often, Lorlen…_ "The king has ordered that the Port be opened tomorrow."

"Really? What if she escapes in a ship?" Akkarin was irritated that he found himself agreeing with Fergun. But remembering the look in Merin's eyes earlier, there was no possibility of changing his mind. That ship, ironically, had sailed.

" _Find this girl, before she makes a mockery of all of us…"_

"I doubt if the embargo would haves stopped her from leaving Imardin if she really wanted to." Akkarin watched as Lorlen seemed to suddenly remember something, as he smiled and looked up at Rothen. "As Lord Rothen's former guardian used to say: "Kyralia would run itself very well if ruling were declared a crime"."

Rothen chuckled. "Yes, Lord Margen was a source of such remarks. I don't believe we have explored all our options, however. Dannyl pointed out to me this morning that the people who have the best chance of finding this girl are the slum dwellers themselves. I think he is right."

Akkarin once again looked to the young man standing beside Rothen. The young man was looking at Rothen with slightly widened eyes, as if he hadn't wished Rothen to have made such a statement about him. Akkarin wondered what Dannyl was plotting.

 _Something to look into…_

"Why would they help us?" Lorlen was asking, a reasonable question.

With a glance at Dannyl, Rothen smiled.

"We could offer a reward." Suddenly, Dannyl's facial expression relaxed, and Akkarin noted him let out a slow breath.

 _Definitely something to look into._

"A reward! Yes, that might work." Lorlen seemed genuinely pleased for the first time that evening.

Akkarin wasn't so sure. Knowing more about slum dwellers, and what is what like to be destitute, far more than these men did, he wondered whether their fierce loyalty to their own or their strong sense of pride would let them to take money from, of all people, the Guild. Still, it wouldn't do any harm. Now time was becoming an issue, any idea was a good one.

"An excellent idea," Fergun said, obviously wishing it to be known he was in agreement with the Administrator. "And we should fine those who hinder us, too." The pleased expression all too soon left Lorlen's face as he looked at Fergun.

"A reward shall be sufficient. Mind you, nothing shall be given until she is found, or the entire population of the slums will claim to have seen her." Then what had occurred to Akkarin moments before occurred to Lorlen. "Hmm, we'll also want to discourage people from trying to catch her themselves…"

"We could post a description of her and terms of the reward at street corners, with a warning that she should not be approached. We should encourage people to report sightings of her too, as they could give us some indication of the areas she frequents."

That's all very well, but relying on the fact that most of them can read, however isn't an excellent idea…Why haven't they considered her Presence yet?

"We could have a map of the slums drawn up so we can keep track of her sightings." Fergun was saying.

 _Yes, the Guild should have a better understanding of the Slums, anyway. It could prove useful._

"Hmm, that would be useful," Dannyl said, in what Akkarin believed to be an ingenuine attempt at surprise. For some reason, he seemed to like the idea of Fergun having to spend hours, working on a complicated map. _I wonder why?_ He thought dryly, almost smiling to himself. Even he, with many pulls on his memory and attention, remembered hearing as an older novice about the feud between the two, and he always wondered at it. Such a petty hatred must take so much time and effort to continue.

"…more ideas?" Lorlen finished saying. Akkarin decided it was time. He cleared his throat.

"This girl must have a presence. She is untrained, and would not know how to hide it- or even that she has one. Has anyone searched for it yet?" The silence that followed his question answered it as well as he needed. Lorlen responded first, which a self-deprecating chuckle.

"I can't believe I hadn't thought of that."

 _Ah, but you have been bogged down, my friend. I didn't expect you to think of it. But it is concerning no one else did…_ What was the point of being the greatest magical institution the world had ever seen if it wasn't actually any good?

"…It seems we have all forgotten what we are- and what she is."

 _I only wish I could forget._

"A presence. I think I…" Rothen's voice trailed off as he became lost in thought. Akkarin looked at the man, who was now frowning, as if something now made sense, which had not before. He took it as a good sign. At least one person knew what they were doing. He felt a little guilty for underestimating Rothen before. If you'd asked the High Lord a few days' before what he thought of the Alchemist, he would have been hard pressed to even put a name to a face. The man was clearly intelligent, dedicated and, most interesting, seemed to genuinely care for the girl. But why?

Lorlen obviously wanted to know more clearly what Rothen was thinking.

"Yes?" He said. But Rothen didn't explain.

"I'll organise a mental search for tomorrow." He said.

Rothen and Dannyl then made their excuses and left, Rothen seeming in a particular rush to leave, as if wanting to tell his younger companion what he had realised.

"Well, I hope he is on to something, I'm not sure how much longer I can take this," Lorlen murmured, drinking the remaining wine in his glass.

"I just hope they know what they are doing," Fergun said, in a rather reproachful manner.

Lorlen didn't even turn to look at the man this time, but Akkarin saw him stifle a sigh.

 _Time for more wine, I think._

 **Once again, a BIG thank you to anyone who has read this far. You're all too sweet. I got the loveliest review last night as well, so thank you! 3 I'll be back soon with chapter five! Cece xox**


	5. Idiotic, Malicious, Unfeeling

Chapter Five: Idiotic, Malicious, Unfeeling.

The door swung open immediately, apparently of its own accord, at Akkarin's knock.

"Are you busy?"

Lorlen looked up from the large log book on his desk, one brow raised.

"When am I not?"

Akkarin laughed softly. "True. But do you have a moment?"

"Does the Administrator have the option of refusing the High Lord a moment?"

"The Administrator does, but the High Lord does not recommended it."

"Then you had better come in, oh mighty one."

Akkarin laughed again, and closed the door behind him. He looked around thoughtfully. "Is something different in here?"

Lorlen gazed around the room. "Umm, no I don't think so, it's just messier than usual." He waved to a chair. "Sit. I'll just finish this, if that's alright. I'm in the middle of a calculation and if I don't stop then I will have to start again."

"Fine."

Akkarin lowered himself gracefully into the chair and enjoyed the peaceful scratching of Lorlen's pen. Looking around, he was amused by what Lorlen considered 'messy'. A couple of books were open on a low table, and a couple of used sumi cups were on a tray to be taken away by a servant, and that was it. No, there was something different. Or maybe he just hadn't been here this late in a while. His journeys into the slums had kept him from visiting his friend lately. _Another reason to curse the Ichani and all they hold dear._

After a few minutes, Lorlen reviewed his work, put down his pen and heaved the book shut. He sat back and smiled. "Right, finished, the Vin Guildhouse accounts are finally in order. I really don't know what they get up to there, and I don't want to know. Now, what do you want, sitting there cluttering up my office?"

Akkarin smiled crookedly, then leaned forward. "I just wanted to get the latest news from my best placed source, and I thought you should know something I have discovered about Dannyl."

Lorlen's eyebrows rose. "Oh, have those rumours started again?"

"No, no- nothing like that. But it turns out he has a... disobedient side."

Lorlen rolled his eyes. "Go on."

"Nothing too awful, but it turns out he has taken it upon-"

The sharp knock at the door interrupted Akkarin's sentence. Lorlen looked at him apologetically, and waved the door open with magic. The angular figure of Lord Osen appeared. Even before he noticed Akkarin in the guest chair, he looked tense. Without ceremony, he bowed and handed a note to Lorlen. The Administrator unfolded it in one swift movement and began to read. Akkarin watched with interest, then humour, as Lorlen's face went white, then red. The curse he then used stunned both Akkarin and Osen, but they didn't say anything, though Akkarin did notice the young assistant's eyes turn on him. Something very out of the ordinary must have happened for the ever-poised Administrator to lose his cool. Lorlen looked to Akkarin, lips pressed into a tight line, then reached across the desk, holding it out the note. Akkarin looked at him with curiosity, took it, and read.

 _I beg to inform the Administrator of the Magicians' Guild that a Lord Fergun has ordered a house in the upper northside of the slums to be destroyed in order to find the Guild's missing renegade. The house is used to house parentless children, who have now been removed. I would ask the Administrator's opinion on such an order post haste. With regards, Captain Kerin of the City Guard._

Akkarin could feel the need to laugh and the need to hit something wrestling each other.

There are many wonderful things about being a magician. Power, status, and above all other things a gift as rare as diamonds in a pig trough. But these things, like all good things we have been fortunate to obtain, come at a price- the price of responsibility, of duty. As someone with power, you have a duty to use it to do good. As someone with status, you have a duty to care for those who don't. As someone with such a precious gift, you have a duty to use it wisely. All in all, you cannot simply enjoy privilege without seeing to your duty. Most magicians learn this as novices, or at the latest in the immediate years after graduation. However, as in all cases of people with great luck in life, some seemed to forget that everything in life comes at a price. Fergun seemed to be one of those. He clearly had apparently not being paying attention when his teachers had discussed Guild values, or the discipline needed to be a Good Warrior.

This thought reminded Akkarin of the last lesson he had had in Warrior Skills before his final examinations. The teacher had sat them down, a group of young men desperate to prove their metal in the most extravagant ways of combat, and looked at them all evenly. "When you reach for magic," he said softly, "do not think about who to kill, but who to save." Despite all he had done, all that he had _had_ to do to survive, Akkarin had never forgotten those words.

Not allowing himself to linger on such thoughts, Akkarin thought back to Fergun. Over the years, Fergun had shown himself to be bigoted, short sighted and immature through all his loud opinions and , but that in and of itself was neither rare in the Guild, nor dangerous. But by being so callous in his actions towards the dwells, he had shown himself to be far more dangerous and out of control than Akkarin had given him credit for, which angered him. He hated being misinformed.

At least this Captain Kerin had enough sense to question such a command. However, the Guild and the City Guard had a…delicate relationship at times, and Akkarin was angered that Fergun had put that relationship in danger, particularly at a time when it needed to be strong. He then looked at Lorlen, and something in his gaze must have confirmed something to him, as the Administrator huffed and immediately reached for a clean sheet of paper, with the Guild symbol neatly embossed at the top. In a perfunctory manner wrote a short note in response. A countermand, Akkarin assumed.

"Pass my thanks on to Captain Kerin for this information with this note," Lorlen said, folding the paper and handing it to Osen. "If he has any further questions about orders he receives from the Guild, he may always ask for my approval."

"Yes, Administrator."

Osen bowed and slipped out of the room. Lorlen waited to hear footsteps padding away from the door, before slamming his fist so hard down on the desk it must have hurt. He rose and began to pace around the room, a slightly wild look in his eyes.

Akkarin understood Lorlen's particular anger, having seen it before. Since their first days as best friends, Lorlen had been the gentle of the two. The one to feel guilt and remorse, the one who would want to own up for a prank or apologise to someone they hurt. He hated seeing people being hurt. Well, who doesn't you may ask, but Lorlen seemed to feel it more keenly than most, particularly right now. For to care about others' feelings as well as your own is to accept that their life is just as important as your own. So, whilst Akkarin the Warrior was angry at Fergun's overreaction, Lorlen the Healer was insensed by Fergun's lack of compassion. Put simply, Fergun hadn't cared. And Lorlen could not abide that.

"How...DARE he?" He hissed. "Who does he think he is?"

"A determined Warrior of the Magicians' Guild," Akkarin said quietly.

"So are you, and you would never do such a thing."

"No, I would not."

"Children, Akkarin, they were only children!"

"Yes, I did just read the note."

"Why did he do it? Why?!"

"Because he could."

"Bastard."

"My sentiments exactly."

"I should take him off the search detail."

"Don't do that."

"Why?"

"Because you won't find anyone to replace him. Not at this stage in the game. And we need every pair of eyes we can get."

Lorlen cursed again. His pacing slowed. He came back to the desk and lowered himself into his chair, put his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands. "What has this become?" He murmured.

Akkarin could guess his friend's thoughts. He dropped the message onto the desk in front of him. "This goes without saying, but it isn't your fault, Lorlen."

Lorlen gave him a cool look. "Would you care to explain to me how it isn't?"

Akkarin held his friend's gaze. "Would you care to explain to me how it is?"

"Because," Lorlen sighed and rubbed his eyes, "because I am in charge of the day to day running of this organisation. When one of us does something so...completely idiotic, malicious, unfeeling, it reflects on how I ask us to all behave. And therefore I think it is acceptable to remove orphans from safety to the freezing streets of the slums."

"No one will think that of you, and no one blame you. I promise you that. They may ask you to intercede, to speak out against such an abuse of power, but they won't hold you responsible."

"Really, you have that much faith in our little family, do you?" Lorlen said bitterly.

"In this case I do. And if they believe anything else, they can come and talk to me about it, their papa who doesn't like being disturbed, I will tell them what they can do with such opinions."

Lorlen looked at him with fondness. "You may regret saying that."

"Perhaps, but I doubt it. Anyway, as you say, what are friends for?"

Lorlen almost smiled at that. "I'd be in your debt again!"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll need your back in the future."

"Hardly! Now, shall we get back to what you were saying before all," Lorlen grimaced and visibly shuddered, "this…what were you saying about Lord Dannyl?"

Akkarin took a breath to answer.

- _Master?_

Akkarin straightened a fraction in his seat.

- _Takan._

- _It's starting. The message from your friends arrived just now._

 _-Where?_

 _-The Bold Knife, Northside. That's where he was last spotted. It appears the game is afoot, Master._

 _-It appears so. Are my clothes-_

 _-In the tunnels._

 _-Good. Make sure everything is ready for my return. I will be back after dark._

 _-Yes, Master. Safe hunting._

Akkarin's gaze returned to the room. Lorlen was looking at him expectantly, a humorous glint in his eyes.

"I'm afraid I have somewhere I have to be," Akkarin said, rising. "Sorry, old friend. Duty calls"

"Oh, I'm sure your admirer's time is more important than mine," Lorlen chuckled. "I'm sure you will catch me up presently. Although," he said, seeming to think, "if Lord Dannyl is doing something he shouldn't, perhaps I don't want to know."

"Perhaps," Akkarin smiled. "Try not to let this business of Fergun's bother you. You've dealt with it, the order is rejected- the children will sleep soundly tonight." _For more reasons than one._

Lorlen's smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared at the mention of Fergun. Akkarin considered him.

"In all seriousness, did you want me to speak to him? Pull rank and all that?"

Lorlen let out a hollow laugh. "Oh no, I won't give him the satisfaction. No, I shall pull rank on him myself. Being sent to Papa can be saved for when he does something truly spectacular."

Akkarin nodded. "Good idea. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

He left Lorlen looking tired, anxious and all together fed up of chasing a little girl around the slums. As he remembered that was where he was going, he sobered. Then he remembered Lorlen's words, which he hadn't really acknowledged before. What exactly had he said?

 _I'm sure your admirer's time is more important than mine._

Akkarin snorted.

 _An admirer. As if I should be so lucky._

 **Hello again all :) I am posting this a bit earlier than I was planning to because I am away for a couple of days. Also, I couldn't help put in a reference to another of my favourite books, a prize to the first person who notices it! As usual, constructive feedback, requests and just generally messages are always happily received! Until next time, Cece xox**


	6. Worrying Developments

**Chapter Six: Worrying Developments**

"Do I really have to go?"

Akkarin looked at Lorlen in an almost pleading manner as they moved into the Seven Arches. They were walking slowly, unwillingly, towards the Night Room, quietly preparing themselves for the many, many questions that were to come their way in the next few hours. The mindless chatter, the constant interruptions. A room full of children would be easier to control. Lorlen looked back at him, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"You're the one who said that you wanted to get the latest news first hand from Rothen, I was quite happy to report back to you!" Lorlen's smile broadened. "And besides, our little family needs to see that their papa is… keeping them out of trouble, shall we say. Someones I'm not good enough."

Akkarin sighed. Lorlen was right. Then he narrowed his eyes at Lorlen. "If I'm their papa, what does that make you?"

Lorlen frowned. "I don't know. Their obscure bachelor uncle, maybe?"

"I was going to say the worrying mother, but we can go with your idea if you prefer."

Lorlen looked appalled for a moment, then laughed. "After these last few weeks, I think you might be closer to the truth." Then his face hardened again. "I just don't know how we're going to find her."

There it was again- that lingering self-doubt and uncertainty.

Akkarin stopped and caught his friend by the arm, which surprised them both as this was an unusual gesture in their friendship, and said quietly, "we _will_ find her Lorlen. Have more faith in Rothen, and have more faith in yourself. You're doing well." Lorlen snorted.

"If I'm doing well, it's because I'm only doing what you and the King are telling me to do. And I'm not sure I am doing well, after that… _idiot_ of a warrior did this yesterday."

It was Akkarin's turn to chuckle. "Yes, perhaps we all should have all seen that one coming, but I've already told you Fergun's actions are not your responsibility." He paused. "But you, my friend, are too hard on yourself. You always have been. And one of these days you will surprise yourself with how good you are at your job, and I hope I am there to see the look on your face to laugh at it."

Lorlen smiled openly at his friend then. "Thank you, High Lord," he said in only slightly mocked deference.

"You're welcome, Administrator," Akkarin returned in the same way.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, but Akkarin noticed that Lorlen walked with slightly more confidence in his step. He held back a chuckle. He knew many people had disapproved when he had suggested that his closest friend from his earliest days at the university to be considered for the role of Administrator, as many people believed that their relationship wouldn't be professional enough, but what they didn't know, and what even Lorlen didn't know the whole truth of, was that Akkarin needed him, just as Lorlen had needed his support now. He knew that, even though he found his role difficult (and that role certainly went much further than anyone in the Guild understood), it would be much harder without his friend by his side, to offer advice, encouragement and the odd piece of humour to keep them from both despairing too much at their "little family". Because, in reality, the only family either had was with the other.

Mercifully, when they reached the door of the Night Room, no one else was in the corridor, they had the opportunity to pause and consider one another.

"Ready?" Lorlen asked.

Akkarin rolled his eyes, and nodded at the door. "Go on, then."

Lorlen opened the door, and almost immediately the room inside quietened for a heartbeat, then became even louder than before.

"Rothen and Dannyl are already here," Akkarin said quietly, "I'll get some wine glasses while you find them". Lorlen nodded in agreement, and quickly went off in search of the two magicians before anyone had a chance to intercept him.

Akkarin found the nearest servant holding a tray of glasses and accepted two, then managed to find his way to his usual seat, carefully ignoring anyone's bid to get his attention. As he sat down, he noticed Lorlen already coming towards him, Rothen and Dannyl in tow. As he made eye contact with Rothen, he nodded ever so slightly toward him. He had to admit, he had been impressed by the Alchemist, but had been left wondering why Rothen seemed so keen to find her. Unlike Fergun, Rothen wasn't one who desperately wanted to impress. Akkarin had deduced that either the man felt somewhat involved in the killing of the boy at the Purge and felt this would assuage his guilt, or he simply liked solving difficult problems. Either way, Akkarin was intrigued.

Then a twinge at the edge of his mind stopped all thought, and Akkarin had to stop himself wincing as he sensed the jolt of uncontrolled magic. Then it was gone as soon as he realised that it had happened. This was quickly becoming the main reason why Akkarin wanted the girl found: so that these bursts of magic would stop. Particularly in the middle of the night, and in the middle of social gatherings.

That and his unsuccessful attempt to catch the Sachakan slave the previous night. This one was cleverer than the previous ones, and managed to slip away before Akkarin reached the bolhouse. He'd have to wait once again, in the worrying knowledge that there was a girl out there who had far more power, and ability to outwit the Guild, than was good for her. If only she knew there were far more dangerous monsters outside the Guild's walls than there were inside.

As the trio approached, Lorlen turned back to his companions and waved them towards the two empty chairs that faced Akkarin's, then took his usual place next to the High Lord.

"Tell us how your search is progressing," he said, gratefully receiving the second wine glass that Akkarin held.

"We have interviewed over two hundred informers," Rothen began, "most haven't given us any useful information. A few had locked up ordinary beggar girls, despite our warning not to approach her. Some were convincingly disappointed when the place where they believed she was hiding turned out to be empty. That, unfortunately, is all I can report so far."

As Lorlen nodded, Akkarin noticed that all of his friend's doubts and fears seemed unnoticeable now. He obviously didn't want the Guild to realise that the situation was becoming more and more serious by the day. But the progress _was_ disappointing. Akkarin's opinion of the Guild's magicians wasn't particularly high, but even he was surprised by their inability to track down one little girl.

"Lord Fergun believes she is being protected by someone," Lorlen said. Only Akkarin would have noticed the tiny amount of contempt in his voice. He had been only a little surprised to hear that Fergun had tried to argue that his decision to evicting the people in the house he had searched was the right decision, but this was Fergun, after all. Lorlen would hear none of it, however.

"The Thieves?" Rothen said in a questioning manner, bringing Akkarin back to the present.

"Or a rogue magician. She did learn to hide her presence quickly," Lorlen replied.

Akkarin noted Rothen's quick look in his direction.

"A rogue?" he said in a slightly questioning manner. "Do you think there is reason to suspect we have one now?" Akkarin supposed it was time to tell someone other than Lorlen about what he had discovered. He looked down at the glass in his hands.

"I have sensed someone using magic," he said. "Not much, and not for long. I believe she is experimenting alone, since a teacher would have told her to hide her activities by now."

He didn't like telling people how much he knew. It made them interested, and interest always led to more questions, questions he would not, and could not, answer. Sensing Rothen's gaze, he looked up to meet the older man's eyes levelly, but Rothen had already looked away.

"That is…interesting news," he said thoughtfully.

"Could you…could you trace her?" It was the first time Dannyl had spoken in the conversation, and the question made Akkarin think, and once again worry about the amount of information he was having to give away.

 _It is lucky I will not have to have anything to do with this girl, otherwise I would have to tell her what a disruptive influence she is being._

"She is using magic in short bursts, sometimes a single occurrence, sometimes several over an hour. You would sense them if you were waiting and alert to them, but you would not have time to find and capture her unless she used her power for a longer period."

"We can get a little closer each time she uses it, though," Dannyl suggested. "We could spread ourselves out throughout the city and wait. Each time she experiments we can move a little closer until we know her location." It wasn't a bad idea, Akkarin had to admit. He made a mental note to himself to keep Rothen and Dannyl informed as to the whereabouts of the girl, and to remember that Dannyl was a man of hidden depths. He nodded, partially to himself and partially to them.

"She is in the northern section of the outer circle," he said, and decided he revealed all he ought for one evening.

"Then we'll being there tomorrow," Dannyl said decisively. Akkarin noted the controlled look of concern on Rothen's face.

 _He starting to panic_ , he mused. _Well, we all are_.

He then noticed Dannyl looking directly at him, and focused on what the magician was saying.

"…Our chances of success will be greater if we disguise ourselves."

 _This one is like a dog with a bone, he won't let go until he gets what he wants…_ He decided to ignore the Higher Magicians' earlier protests and give in.

"Cloaks should hide your robes sufficiently."

"Of course," Dannyl replied, pleasure at his little victory obvious.

"You'll only have one chance," Lorlen said. "If she learns that you can sense her using magic, she will evade you by moving to a new location after every experiment."

"Then we must work quickly- and the more magicians we have, the faster we can locate her." Akkarin was surprised by the fact that it was Dannyl making all the suggestions today- the last time they had spoken, he had waited in Rothen's shadow.

So what has happened since the last time that we spoke to give him this extra confidence?

"I will call for more volunteers," Lorlen was saying.

"Thank you, Administrator," Dannyl replied, nodding in gratitude.

For the first time in the evening, Lorlen's tense demeanour seemed to completely ease. Now they had a plan, he seemed to relax. He reclined more into his chair.

"I must say, I never thought I'd be happy to learn that our little runaway has started to use her powers," he said. But by the frown on Rothen's face, it didn't seem that he agreed with the Administrator. It seemed that to Rothen, the girl was more than a problem to solve.

Which is why one should never become emotionally involved in anything. It only leads to more emotion.

And with that thought, Akkarin decided he had had enough of the night room. It was still early but the room was already packed, and as he had done what he set out to do, he decided to leave the magicians to their squabbling and gossiping.

 _At some point it is time for papa to step away and let the children get on with it,_ he mused, almost smiling.

He put down his wine glass and said to his three companions,

"And now I have letters to write, so I'll say goodnight. Don't stay up too long, Administrator."

Lorlen smiled.

"I'll try not to," he replied.

Akkarin rose, and, carefully extracting himself from all attempts at conversation, slipped out of the room and into the dark night.

 **Lots of love to all of you! Hope you're having as beautiful and sunny a day as we here in good old Blighty. Cece xox**


	7. As If Someone Could See Me

Chapter Seven: As If Someone Is Watching Me

It was dark now. The days were drawing in quickly now, as if desiring the secret battles that went on in the slums to begin so they could end as soon as possible. A faint wind blew, and as it did so, it whistled between the tall buildings of the Guild. As the air was pushed and pulled this way and that, it changed notes to make a strange, haunting melody, sounding like one of the singers the High Lord has heard at court.

As quietly as he could, Akkarin opened a small, camouflaged gate into the side of the Guild's gardens. He didn't expect any one to be around at this time of night, and of course no one would be foolish enough to challenge him about where he had been, but the less people saw of these night time activities, the better. He walked down the path slowly, trying to keep his boots from making too much noise on the gravel, but he was too tired to be bothered to make much of an effort.

He hated to think about it, but fighting the slaves was getting harder every time. _Are they getting stronger, or am I getting weaker?_ He pondered. He couldn't help smiling grimly to himself. _Well, I did turn thirty this year, and that to_ me _counts as old_. As he looked around the inner garden he was in, he remembered a conversation he had had with Lorlen just before his departure to Elyne, some ten years ago now.

" _You will come back, won't you?"_

" _Of course."_

" _What if you meet some exotic girl and want to marry her?"_

" _What if I decide to become a pirate and go off to sail the high seas? What if I discover a sudden faith and join a monastery? There are some possibilities so remote there not worth worrying about."_

" _Well, all the same, promise to write."_

" _You know I don't make promises."_

" _Fine, agree to write then."_

" _Agreed, if you will keep me up to date with all the Guild gossip. Particularly about Lord Horton."_

" _Surely your adventures in exotic lands will be more interesting that the…bedroom adventures of that idiot?"_

" _Perhaps, I will get back to you on that."_

Akkarin allowed himself a slight chuckle at the memory. _Ah, to be young again._ But then he sobered as the 'adventures' that trip had brought him. And was still bringing him now, in the form of the slave he has just…dealt with.

This slave had been particularly malicious, though. He wasn't very powerful, he hadn't been very careful in his killings and so hadn't had much of a chance to strengthen himself, but he had been a ferocious fighter, and knew how to use his strength economically. It had taken far more energy than Akkarin had thought it would to kill him. And that concerned him.

 _Are the Ichani beginning to get the idea, and are training up their slaves in fighting skills more before they come to test me? What if they become too skilled?_ Akkarin kicked a the gravel a little harder than necessary at this. He knew that doubting himself would do no good at all, but in these moments of tiredness and frustration at the impossible situation he was in, it was difficult not to indulge in such thoughts. And, strangely, it made him feel a little better. He supposed that being honest with himself was the balm.

As he reached the High Lord's Residence, he thought he heard the faintest gasp of an indrawn breath. But he would let himself start imagining things, and kept walking. He knew it was his mind, still in an excited state after having to kill someone, that was to blame for seeing people in shadows and hearing whispers in the faint winter wind.

Shaking his head as to clear it, Akkarin reached the side entrance to the Residence, and quickly escaped inside. He then opened the only other door in the tiny room he found himself in that led to the main entrance and guestroom of the Residence. A final door at the back of this room led to the stairs that descended down to the room below the ground, and connected up to the secret passages. He went through it and down the staircase.

 _Takan?_ He called softly with his mind. He immediately heard a movement from upstairs. The door to the underground room opened, and Takan padded quickly down the stairs. He reached the bottom, and looked at Akkarin, taking all of him in with wide eyes before saying in his accented tones,

"Master," he paused, hesitating, "It is done then?" Akkarin almost smiled at his servant, noting the concern in Takan's voice and eyes. What had he done to deserve such devotion from the Sachakan?

"It is done," he replied, sighing, and pulled the old cloak off himself. The sight underneath was not appealing. Grimacing, he asked, "did you bring my robes?"

"Of course, master", Takan murmured quietly He went to a cupboard on the other side of the room, opened it and pulled out the familiar black robes.

There is a stench to the smell of blood that is unlike any other. It is always incredibly strong, long lasting and has the ability to conjure up all sorts of disturbing images. And disturbing feelings. _Yes, feel guilty,_ the smell seems to say. _Remember what you did._

Akkarin pulled of the bloodstained shirt with one strong tug. He reached for his belt, and as he pulled the knife from his waist, he remembered holding the knife before, less than an hour before. Holding it to the neck of the young Sachakan, large golden eyes boring into his, words of pleading and regret being whimpered from his lips, and his feet scraping the ground as Akkarin held him just above it. It had been a pitiful sight, one that Akkarin desperately wished he could forget. In one swift movement, he threw the dagger and shirt onto the table, angry at his lack of control. Control of the situation, control of his thoughts, control of everything.

Takan glanced up at him then, having prepared a bowel of water and a cloth. He knew Akkarin didn't like to talk about what happened down in the slums, for more reasons than one, but Akkarin saw in the quick look Takan gave everything he needed to see. Understanding. Sympathy.

Akkarin pulled the bowl towards him and started to clean himself. He took the job slowly, telling himself that with each stroke of the cloth took away a little of the guilt as well as the pain. He knew the slave wasn't innocent, not by any stretch of the word. He came here in the hope of becoming a Sachakan master, wanting to prove himself worthy by killing the Guild's infamous leader. When it came down to it, one of the two of them would have died tonight, whatever happened. Akkarin just ensured it was him, and the rest of the Guild, were the ones that stayed alive.

As he finished, Takan handed him the fresh robes, and he moved to the side of the room to put them on put them on. As the soft cloth slide over his arms, he sighed softly. He was home. He was safe. So was the Guild. For a few months, Akkarin could relax, but he knew that wouldn't be so easy. The Ichani were never far from his mind. In fact, the little renegade, what was the name Lorlen had told him, Sonea?, in the slums was proving to be quite an entertaining distraction. This would only improve now that he knew the girl was in no immediate danger from foreign murderers. Indeed, he had to remind himself that his life was not without its more amusing moments and pieces of good luck.

Smiling a little to himself at this, Akkarin moved back to the table, considering how lucky he had been not to have been hurt at all. Then, considering his magical strength, he winced. He had used a considerable amount in the fight, and he knew what that meant. He took the dagger again and pulled it out of the sheath.

The foul stench of stale blood once again rose to his nostrils, and he quickly wiped it away with a towel. He inwardly shuddered, and was angry at himself about this; he should be getting used to be doing things like this now! Wasn't he a grown man, a magician, a warrior? Wasn't it his sworn duty to defend the Allied Lands, so was open to the idea of bloodshed?

 _But to do it so…secretively. That's the problem._

But he had more urgent things to think about. He looked around for Takan. The servant was picking up the beggar's clothes he had left in the corner he had used to dress. As Takan straightened, his gaze met Akkarin's. Akkarin knew he already understood, but he felt he had to voice the thought anyway.

"The fight has weakened me," he said in a low voice, "I need your strength". He felt guilty just saying it, particularly as he didn't even pose it as a question, but he felt too tired to say anything else.

"Yes," Takan said simply, and came over to him. He bowed his head and knelt before Akkarin. Akkarin was about to argue, then thought better of it. He wasn't in the state of mind to explain to Takan why he mustn't kneel, and it was a part of Takan. It was a sad thought, but Takan was, in his head at least, still a slave. Akkarin hoped by letting him following him to Kyralia and taking him as his servant that he had freed him as best he could, even if that meant allowing him to do things like this.

He took Takan's wrist firmly, palm upward, and gently brought the knife across it. Before the blood could drip, he gripped the wound and did what he must. Drawing strength into himself, he felt himself ease a little. He had asked himself over a thousand times since his return what he would do without Takan. I would have died years ago, and the Guild would no longer exist. It was the first time he had realised that the fate of the Guild was currently held in the blood of the former slave kneeling in front of him.

He was careful not to take too much power, but as he was about to draw away, he felt…something. A twinge at the back of his mind. When he focused on it, it felt as if his power was a magnet, drawing his attention away to somewhere beyond the walls of the room. A power source, a mighty one, seemed to be sat just outside the house. The source was fluttering, like a spattering candle, as if it had been disturbed by something. Letting Takan go, he turned to the grille in the wall next to them, thinking, trying not to over think.

"Strange," he murmured, "it's almost as if…"

 _As if someone can see me_.

His mind immediately went to the slave he had just killed- he was definitely dead, wasn't he?! Yes.

No one came with him, did they?! _No. I would have sensed them_.

A spy from the King, a spy from one of the Allied Lands?!

He stood thinking for a long time, ideas still filling his mind, before he heard Takan gently say, "Master?"

He blinked, looked over at his servant, and chuckled ruefully, and rubbed his eyes. When he cast his mind forth again, the strange force had gone.

"I'm sorry Takan, it's been a long night." Takan looked at him seriously.

"Then it is probably time to retire, Master."

"Yes, you're probably right. Thank you, Takan."

Takan bowed his head, and headed for the stairs. He turned just as he was about to ascend, looked Akkarin squarely in the eye, and said softly,

"We're safe for now, Master."

Akkarin smiled gently and nodded. As Takan turned away, he sighed, drawing a hand over this face.

 _But for how long?_

 **Hey gang! Firstly, thank you to the two people who asked for an update- if I do go quiet, feel free to nudge me! It's been a bit of an…interesting week, so sorry for not updating.**


	8. Potentia Scientia Est

Chapter Eight: Scientia Potentia Est

 _And so Papa is left to look after the children by himself tonight._

Akkarin sat quietly in his customary chair, swirling the last of his wine around the glass, pretending to be interested in Balkan's petition, well, really a demand, for more Warrior Skills teachers.

"It's clear too much is being done by too few, wouldn't you agree High Lord?" Lord Balkan finished, an all-too familiar look of determination in his eyes.

 _If you wanted my job, why were you so insistent on my election?_ Akkarin had thought this several times over the past five years. His only conclusion was that, being the Head of Warrior's junior by over ten years, Balkan had, naively, believed that the younger man would be easy to control as an inexperienced High Lord. Meaning Balkan could get what he wanted without having the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. But he had been proved wrong. Oh, he had been so very wrong. Akkarin knew he was, in contrast with his predecessors, still new and had much to learn. But it is only fools who mistake youth for stupidity, and Akkarin had the satisfaction of proving that to many magicians in this room, Balkan included. Still, better a condescending lecture from Balkan than having Fergun practically drooling at his feet. Then he remembered then that Balkan had asked him a question.

"Your account appears to lead to this conclusion. What does the Director say?"

Balkan huffed. "The Director believes that the newest teachers shouldn't be too burdened whilst…"

Akkarin silently cursed Lorlen. The Administrator had been called away by Osen to deal with a minor, but time sensitive, issue the Expatriate Administrator was having, leaving Akkarin to fend for himself in the Night Room tonight. He had arrived early, hoping Rothen and Dannyl would do the same. He was particularly interested in seeing Dannyl, after what he had learnt from his last visit into the slums a few nights before.

Having gone to check that the body of the dead Sachakan slave had been properly dealt with, as the men he had hired for the job were not the most reliable, he had also arranged to meet one of his spies, a messenger for the Thieves. Through general murmurings that some of the senior members of the group had let drop, the man was almost certain that a young Guild magician, tall and purple robed, was secretly in partnership with a Thief called Gorin, to find a missing girl. "The girl, I can only presume", the spy had said to his companions, looking pleased with himself.

At first, Akkarin had been a little disconcerted by this turn of events. But the more he thought about it, the more Dannyl's actions made sense. The Guild was never going to find Sonea on their own. Dannyl had realised this, and made the executive decision to get the Thieves to help, a decision that the Higher Magicians would have violently opposed. He had even taken the risk of humiliation of being found wondering the slums like one of its occupants. It was a sly decision, but a brave one, and made Akkarin think there was more to this man whose only achievement thus far was being the centre of Guild gossip at the tender age of fifteen.

But he wanted Dannyl to know he knew. So he knew he was being watched. So he wouldn't stray too far from the well-trodden path.

After a quarter of an hour of Balkan's dismissal of any other magician's ideas but his own, Akkarin's patience was rewarded as he saw Rothen step into the room. The Alchemist looked around in a searching gaze, before the flocks of magicians spotted his presence and came running to him, presumably questions about the girl. Luckily for both Akkarin and Rothen, he was soon followed by his former novice a few minutes later. This was the moment, then.

Draining his wine glass, Akkarin rose from his chair. "You must excuse me Lord Balkan, there is someone who I must speak to." Balkan looked a little non-plussed, but said nothing. Akkarin walked swiftly over to Dannyl and his former guardian, enjoying the way the other questioners dropped away at his sudden presence. Reaching for a wine glass from a passing servant over Dannyl's shoulder, he felt the man shiver ever so slightly.

He smiled, and plucked a wine glass from the tray, and moved to speak to Rothen.

"How does the search progress, Lord Rothen?"

Dannyl's slight gasp didn't escape his notice. He had meant to slightly intimidate the man. He needed Dannyl to know he was not to be have things hidden from. The fact he was one if the only men in the room who could rival Dannyl's height helped with this.

 _I am like a father, aren't I?!_

Rothen was impressively unaffected by any of this. "We can closest to catching her two weeks ago, High Lord," he said with calm self-assurance. "Her protectors used a decoy. By the time we realised we had the wrong girl, she had escaped. We found a book on magic as well."

Akkarin felt a chill run up his spine. This was new information. Why hadn't Lorlen told him this?

The Guild's magical knowledge was special; it was sacred. It had been carefully and lovingly excavated over thousands of years of hard work by people Akkarin was incredibly proud to call his predecessors. Book upon book, lesson upon lesson, fact upon fact, the Guild's knowledge was one of the greatest acts of human curiosity currently alive and working in the Allied Lands. Only the Great Library of Elyne could rival it, and Akkarin personally believed that the Guild's power to teach its knowledge meant that it surpassed the Library. After all, if you can't explain what you have learned, do you really know it yourself?

The fact that books, and therefore knowledge, had been stolen from the Guild, were being unceremoniously thrown around Imardin like dust in the wind, angered him. The fact that other magicians, including Lorlen himself, didn't see the seriousness of this, showed the lack of respect they had for the power in the great mass of understand they had inherited. _We must always respect the past,_ he mused. With that thought, he was taken back to a hot summer's day in Lonmar, as he remembered the Splendid Temple, and the High Priest's reticence to let him the Dorgan Scrolls. Now, finally, over a decade later, he understood why. Some knowledge, even if not useful to the reader, is too precious to be on display. It needs to be protected. But, then again, he really ought to know that by now.

Only Akkarin knew why the protection of the Guild's magical knowledge was paramount for a second reason. If one of the Sachakan slaves found one of these books, they could easily take back to their masters as proof of the Guild's lack of knowledge of Black Magic. That piece of knowledge could be enough to tip the scales heavily in their favour, and start a chain reaction that Akkarin was powerless to stop. He remembered a favourite phrase of Jerrick's: _Scientia Potentia Est._ How very true that was. Still, at least the next would-be assassin wouldn't be appearing in the very near future.

"This is not good news," he said quietly, already planning what he needed to do about it. Messages to be sent, places to be discreetly visited.

"It was old and outdated," Dannyl said. Akkarin looked at him sternly.

 _Must I spell everything out to these people? I expected more from this one._

"Nevertheless, we cannot allow such books outside the Guild," he replied. He paused, drumming his fingers on his wine glass, thinking quickly. "A search of the pawn shops should reveal if many have made their way into the city. I will speak to Lorlen about it, but in the meantime…" _I will hunt for them myself._

He looked back at Dannyl. Now for the real reason that he was here. "Have you had any success in re-establishing contact with the Thieves?"

As the blood ran out of Dannyl's face, he felt pleased with himself. This was the effect he was going for. Dannyl then went very red, and managed to stammer out,

"No, they have declined my requests for an audience for many weeks."

Akkarin couldn't help but smile slightly. _He might be able to run rings around the Higher Magicians, but now he knows not to play games with me again. There are limits, after all._ But then he sobered. The Thieves' refusal to see Dannyl again was worrying. This was their best lead to capturing the little renegade. If anyone could capture steam in their bare hands, it was the Thieves. So, what could be done to…persuade them to be more helpful?

"I assume you attempted to impress on them the dangers of having an untrained magician in their midst?"

"Yes, but they did not seem concerned," Dannyl confirmed.

That was hardly surprising, but also hardly helpful. Akkarin could demand their co-operation himself, but that would hardly foster good, or at least neutral, relations between the Thieves and the Guild. After all, he couldn't be the parent of the entire city. No, they had to believe they were doing this of their own free will. That may take time to happen, however, but for now at least, it was the time to take back control of the situation with Dannyl.

"They will be soon. Continue your attempts to meet with them. If they refuse to see you personally, send messages. Detail the problems she will encounter as her magic becomes uncontrollable. It will not be long before they realise that you speak the truth. Keep me informed on your progress."

Dannyl visibly swallowed hard, and nodded, looking at the ground like an abashed child.

"Yes, High Lord."

 _Well, that was relatively painless._

Nodding to them, he excused himself. He walked quickly to the Night Room doors, and slipped out, not failing to notice Balkan frowning at his back as he did so. But unfortunately for the Head of Warriors, there were more important things for the High Lord to worry about than teachers. He needed to know what books had been found, where and when. He needed to make the Guild secure again. He sighed to himself. Sometimes he felt he was plugging holes in an old bucket. As soon as one part stopped leaking, another gap came into existence to take its place. Except the stakes were far higher than losing a little bit of water.

Walking down the corridor, he came to a stop at a large painting of a ship on a stormy sea. Appropriate. He checked no one was around, moved the painting slightly and pushed at the wall behind. Ducking into the space the wall had exposed, he put both the painting and wall back into place, and started down the dark passage, flicking a globe light into existence as he did so.

 _-Lorlen?_ He sent.

 _-Akkarin!_ The reply came almost immediately.

 _-Have you finished with Arino?_

 _-Just now. Why, do you need me?_

 _-Indeed I do, I have a bone to pick with you, my friend!_

 _-Sounds ominous. Very well, meet me in my office._

 _-Very well._

Quickening his pace, Akkarin started down the dark passage.

 **Lovely people! Hello! Apologies for the delay, I have been on holiday (Derbyshire for anyone who is interested). I hope this update finds you all very well and happy. I also must thank the people who left two lovely reviews in the mean time, you really are wonderful people.**

 **Someone asked me in a review whether I would consider changes to the storyline- this is something I am loathe to do, at least at this point, because I adore the original story. However, if you send me ideas, I would consider writing them as a part of a different fic. Hope this answer helps!**

 **Lots of love, as ever, Cece xox**


	9. You've Found Her, Haven't You?

Chapter Nine: You've Found Her, Haven't You?

It was snowing, yet again. This time, however, it seemed much more persistent. It hadn't let up for hours now, and according to Lord Davin, it wouldn't do so for many days yet. Not that Akkarin took Davin's weather reports with any amount of seriousness. Not that anyone did. Even so, the weather was not certainly not helping the hunt for the missing girl. After all, who is going to volunteer to wander around the dirtiest part of the city for hours on end looking for what might as well be a needle in a haystack in the bitter cold.

Akkarin turned away from his library window and back to his book. Picking it up, he began to read, though not with much enthusiasm. It was the same tome that he had remembered about weeks before when the hunt for Sonea had begun. He wanted to go back through and read it more thoroughly than the first time, to check that there weren't any more hidden surprises that may come at an unprepared Guild. Like Sonea.

Akkarin sighed. She was leading them a merry dance. And now, according to Rothen, she was starting to lose Control. Which of course was always going to happen, but that wasn't a calming thought.

 _She had better be worth the trouble._

It was then the pain began, once again, in his mind. Wincing, he groped for his chair and sank into it, dropping the book onto the low table beside him. His fingers started kneading his temples of their own accord. When the first pains had assaulted him, they had been like lightning strikes; strong, but brief. This time, it seemed different. More intense. It was like parts of his mind were on fire. But unlike when one accidentally touches a hot surface and can pull one's hand away, Akkarin just had to watch his mind blister. Cursing the wretched slum girl, he wondered what was going on in the city to cause such a reaction. Had they found her? If they had and they had frightened her, that might undo the little Control she had left. He looked out the window again. He couldn't see any flames or smoke, which was a good sign, Suddenly he was grateful for the snow. It would help him keep his promise to Merin and stop the destruction of the city.

He sat like that, sending a constant stream of Healing magic to his mind, for what felt like an age. Then, what was probably only minutes after the first pangs of pain had lanced through his mind, it stopped, like a runner slowing to a halt at the end of a race. Then a…peace settled over his mind. A peace he hadn't felt since the Purge. Like a large blanket had been placed over the burning rubble in his mind. Lifting his head, he realised that the slight magical presence that he had got so used to feeling, bumping against his like fingers running through water, had completely vanished. Not a trace had been left behind. Like a pool of water when the hand has gone. That meant one of two things: the girl's power had all been used up safely, or she was dead. And with her probably all the magicians and civilians in the vicinity.

He heard running footsteps on the stairs, then an urgent knock. He threw some magic at the door so it swung inward.

"You've found her, haven't you?" he said, smoothing his hair back into place, not needing to look up.

"Oh, for goodness sake, can I never surprise you?" Lorlen said breathlessly, clearly both irritated and impressed.

"When you've been experiencing the headaches I have been having for the past few weeks, you would know when they have come to a final stop as they did just now."

Lorlen winced sympathetically. "True."

"So, you found her."

"Yes, I can scare bring myself to believe it."

"Is she still alive?"

"Yes, but apparently it was a close-run thing, according to Rothen."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Apparently she stabbed Lord Dannyl in the leg in a bid to escape, but I'm assured it's not serious. They're both on their way back now."

"Good. So, it's over." Akkarin looked over at his friend for the first time since he had come in. Lorlen gazed back at him. Then, as one, they both began to chuckle. Then their chuckles turned to full laughter. Lorlen shook his head, and threw himself into the second armchair, still smiling crookedly.

"Well, thank the Eye for that!" he said, leaning back, running his fingers through his hair. "I was honestly beginning to think we never would capture her, and the city would be a heap of ashes at the King's feet."

"Being honest, so was I."

"Really? You never showed it!"

"Me? Show weakness? Please."

But Akkarin was genuinely as relieved as his friend. Whilst he hadn't found in him the same gentle compassion that Rothen and Lorlen had for the girl, that was never his way, after all, he certainly did not wish any harm on her. Or on any of the slum dwellers that might have been caught up in her magic. And that no Ichani slaves had managed to find her, causing havoc in all sorts of ways. He was pleased that the King's greatest treasure, his city, was in one pieces. No, despite what anyone else might believe given all the facts, Akkarin wasn't a monster. Yet.

Lorlen sighed. "Well, I suppose I ought to think nothing less of you," he said. They were quiet for a while, pondering this new stage in the game.

"I think I'm most grateful for the fact that I will not be disturbed during the day and kept up late at night by the little beast anymore," Akkarin said.

Lorlen snorted. Akkarin raised an eyebrow at him.

"My pain amuses you?"

"No, just the idea of you being kept up late at night by a slum girl. I wanted to use the sentence now, as I'll never get to use it again."

Akkarin rolled his eyes. "Being prurient doesn't suit you, Administrator."

Lorlen laughed again, then sobered. "So, what do you think she will… be like?"

"Having never had the pleasure of meeting a teenage slum dweller, I have absolutely no idea."

"She'll probably be very different to the novices her age."

"Which is all to the good, if you ask me."

"What makes you say that?" Lorlen asked curiously. Akkarin considered how to answer.

"What do our novices know of the real world? Of the world beyond…presentations at court and family trees and good breeding. What do any of those things have to do with the real world? This girl will at least know something of what it is to live a normal life. To have to work for your keep, to experience injustice, to feel pain, all those normal, human experiences."

"So are you saying our childhoods weren't…real?"

"I'm saying our childhoods are not representative of the world. Or at least how the world should be."

Lorlen looked at his friend through narrowed eyes. "The world should be like the one this girl experienced, where parents don't have enough money to feed their children?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Akkarin sighed, pondering how best to phrase his meaning. All I mean is that all our novices are far too superior for their own good. I count myself in that number. I knew nothing until my travels. Perhaps we should do more to show them how most people have to live. Perhaps Sonea will be helpful in that regard."

Lorlen nodded slowly. "Perhaps. I only hope that we are able to accept her." He then rose from his chair, somewhat reluctantly in Akkarin's opinion, and smoothed out the creases in his robes. He looked back at his companion.

"So, do you want to see the mighty hunters return with their prize? That's where I'm headed next."

Akkarin considered. "No," he said eventually. "I ought to inform the King personally. I promised him all news relating to Sonea as soon as it was available, and no doubt he will want the full report from his pet High Lord." Akkarin rose also, and gestured that Lorlen should exit before him.

"Very true. Good luck with that, I should think he won't be happy until he knows the story well enough to write a ballad about it," Lorlen smiled over his shoulder. Akkarin only grunted in response. They walked down the stairs together and into the narrow guestroom.

"I heard someone saying in the Night Room the other day that this is the most historic event that has happened in this Guild's history." Lorlen said. "Would you agree with that?"

Akkarin though through the question. "Perhaps," he answered slowly. "I think that depends more on what happens next."

"Hmm," Lorlen frowned. They went through the front door of the Residence and down its familiar front steps, both immediately creating strong shields to protect them from the wind and snow. "So…what _does_ happen next?"

"Obviously we start by teaching her Control. Well, when I say we, I mean Rothen does. I'd rather dance the jig at High Court."

"And then?"

"We see if she wants to stay."

"And then?"

"What did I say a little while back about catching the fish before deciding how to cook it?"

Lorlen gave his friend a speculative look. "That analogy makes it sound like you want to kill the poor girl."

Akkarin chuckled. "Of course not, what I mean to say before we decide the girl's fate from now until she is old and grey, perhaps she ought to have a say in it."

Lorlen nodded. "Of course you're right, as ever, but I would just like things to be…sorted. Decided. There's been so much up in the air over the past few weeks, I'm not sure how much longer I can stand it."

"Oh Lorlen, after all this time as Administrator and you _still_ can't deal with uncertainty. It's quite a talent, really."

"My pain amuses you?" Lorlen said, a half smile playing on his lips.

"Indeed, isn't revenge sweet?"

They had reached the outer side of the gardens by this point. They paused, knowing this was where they would part. Akkarin regarded Lorlen's tired face, pleased to see him looking more relaxed than he had done in weeks.

"Come over later for dinner, once all the essentials have been dealt with," Akkarin suggested. "We need to celebrate, and you deserve the night off- I absolutely insist."

Lorlen nodded. "You know, I actually agree with you this time. Yes, let's celebrate."

Akkarin put a hand to his chest in mock disbelief. "You mean to say the Administrator is going to let the Guild fend for itself for an entire evening, no argument brooked?! Goodness, Lorlen, are you coming down with something?"

Lorlen chuckled. "No, I just need some proper food and access to that excellent wine collection of yours."

"That you shall have. I shall see you at sunset, then? Merin should have asked all the questions he can think of by then."

"Very well, sunset."

The friends then parted. As he began to walk away, Akkarin suddenly realised he hadn't said the thing that was most important to be said to his friend. He paused, and looked over his shoulder.

"Lorlen," Akkarin called.

The Administrator turned back, blue robes flaring about him as he did so.

"Yes?"

Akkarin smiled, the most genuine smile he had given him in a long time. "Well done, Lorlen. Well done."

Lorlen smiled back at his friend, before dashing away into the snow. 

**Happy Sunday, one and all! Thank you again for reading and reviewing, you are too lovely. To answer a review question I was sent, yes, my plan is to cover all three books….and perhaps beyond. And on that curious note, I shall leave you. Much love you y'all, Cece xoxo**


	10. A Living, Breathing Legend

Chapter Ten: A Living, Breathing Legend

"Fergun almost had him in a headlock, Akkarin. Stop laughing, it's not funny!"

Akkarin had to try to stop laughing even harder as he looked at Lorlen's frustrated face.

"I'm sorry, Lorlen. I don't mean to laugh at the poor treatment of the boy. It's just-" he stifled another chuckle and gave a slight shrug, "Fergun has this amazing ability to find the smallest amount of power and lets it go to his head like strong drink."

Lorlen's mouth twitched at this. "I suppose that's true…and it was almost gracious of him to offer to show the boy out of the Guild. Out of curiosity, do you think we handle our authority like sensible drinkers?"

Akkarin pondered this, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Well, I wouldn't go that far," he replied slowly. "But we know that as sensible parents we shouldn't let our little family see when we are incapacitated."

"True," Lorlen smiled, lifting his glass to his lips.

Akkarin looked fondly at his friend. Though he had clearly been angered by Fergun, again, he seemed to have refound some of the former serenity he had had in abundance before the Purge. It was something he greatly admired in his friend- no matter how chaotic things became, no matter how much he wanted to scream the place down, Lorlen dealt with the Guild with the efficiency of a soldier, the poise of a King and the heart of a healer. It truly was a remarkable skill, one that Akkarin envied.

They were having their usual weekly drink in his guestroom, resumed now that the chaos created by the hunt for Sonea had dissolved. Lorlen would update him on the affairs of the Guild, and Akkarin updated him on the affairs of State. This week, first on Lorlen's list had been the renegade's night time visitor, and Fergun's failed attempt to capture him. They had taken up their usual roles in such a conversation- Lorlen was heartedly angry, Akkarin was heartedly amused.

"You know, all this power we _do_ have is almost worth it for, well, this," Akkarin said, gesturing to their grand surroundings with his wine glass, "and for the pleasure of good company, of course." He tipped his glass towards Lorlen in a salute.

"Now it's you that is going too far," Lorlen cried. "I would quite happily never drink another of your expensive champagnes again if I didn't hear another complaint about this guardianship debate that we're about to have ever again."

"The girl hasn't even declared her decision to stay, yet. Talk about putting the cart before the horse," Akkarin murmured in reply. Why did the Guild gossips have to stir up rumours when there was no story? Clearly they weren't working hard enough and had too much time on their hands. Perhaps he could do something about that…Well, he was trying to. With very limited success, unfortunately.

"That's what is making it so infuriating!" Lorlen said, before drinking deeply from his glass, emptying it. He looked at the empty glass appreciatively. "I must say, this is very good."

"It is rather, isn't it?" Akkarin replied, holding up his glass to admire the delicate yellow liquid it contained. "I first tried it when I was in Lonmar. They have a particular way of fermenting the Adarn grapes that brings out the flavour in quite a different way. Odd to fine such a beautiful taste in a place where spirits are considered to weaken the soul."

"Of course you would know that," Lorlen smiled. "But can we get back to Fergun, please, before we get too drunk?"

Akkarin sighed. Why was it that all conversations he had with any magician at the moment seem to somehow revolve around the slum girl? He had lost all interest in her now she wasn't about to make an extraordinary mess of the city. But he knew he had to placate his friend. "Alright, if we must," he said resignedly. "So what would you have me do on the occasion? Send him to his room, put him over my knee and smack him?"

"You enjoy annoying me, don't you?" Lorlen chided.

"You're the Administrator of the Magicians' Guild of Kyralia, a job you took voluntarily. If you don't enjoy being annoyed, why did you accept the post?"

"You've drunk too much."

"There is no such thing as drinking too much."

"Well, perhaps not when discussing Fergun."

Akkarin looked up from his glass and studied his friend. He had rarely seen Lorlen get this annoyed at anyone since becoming Administrator. That serenity always kicked in, exactly when it was needed. It was why he was so good at being Administrator- the role required to remain impartial, after all. But not tonight. And even though they had been best friends for over a decade, he was finding it hard to work out why. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Why is this bothering you so much, my friend? Why does _he_ , a little man of little importance, bother you so much?"

Lorlen sighed, letting out an explosive breath.

"I don't know. It's just-" he stopped, narrowing his eyes at Akkarin, "You aren't going to laugh at me again?"

"Would I do that?"

Lorlen looked at him steadily, eyes large and sombre. "Akkarin, be serious."

Akkarin rolled his eyes, and put down his glass. "Alright, I promise on the integrity of my Family and House not to laugh. Now please tell me what's troubling you."

Lorlen shifted in his seat, not meeting Akkarin's gaze. "Well, I just don't like the way that a lot of the Guild deals with the rest of the city. Well, not the people of the Houses, obviously, but the… _normal_ people. From the outer parts, and the slums. Since the Purge, I've seen how we deal with them. It's…embarrassing. No wonder they hate us. Because we act like we hate them." He looked at Akkarin then, and his face seemed to redden. "Look, I'm not saying we should be giving them our beds or offering to teach all their children, but…there's something called common courtesy and respect. And dragging slum boys out of hedges by their hair is the complete opposite of that." Lorlen leaned back, ran his fingers through his hair, then crossed his arms. Like a child who has finally admitted to their guilt.

There was a pause between the pair then. Akkarin raised his glass to his lips, took a slow sip and returned it to the central table between them. He knew that Lorlen had a point. One of the many, many, countless reasons he couldn't tell the Guild about the truth about his journey and the terrors it led to all those years ago is because they would lose respect for him for being a slave for five years. And as High Lord, he had to be seen as the Guild's most respected member.

"You have a point Lorlen, of course you do," he said eventually. "I don't like Fergun's behaviour, or the behaviour of any magician who treats people with less fortune in life than themselves as less than themselves. But I am struggling to see what we can do about it. These prejudices don't start with us, remember: they started with our parents' parents, maybe before even then. To pull up such deep set roots is going to be a struggle."

"Just because something is hard doesn't mean we shouldn't try," Lorlen retaliated. "I know we can't change anyone's beliefs, but we can change their behaviour. I mean, what if Sonea does decide to stay? How will the other novices treat her? If they are anything like Fergun, we could have a riot on our hands."

Akkarin couldn't help snorting quietly at this. The idea of novices, soft and innocent and therefore nothing like himself, feeling about something so strongly to cause a riot was amusing.

"Like I said before Lorlen, we don't know if she will stay yet," he replied. "She has been given the promise of freedom. All we can do is wait and see what happens."

"It would be a damn shame if she doesn't chooses not to make the vow," Lorlen said.

"I agree. After all the effort we went to capture her, it would be irritating to put her back as if none of it ever happened." _And put her back somewhere where she might be an easy target, a sitting duck for the Ichani to feast on. If she does refuse, I'll have to keep an eye on her. Curse it._

"But what about the rest of the Guild?" Lorlen was nowhere near surrendering his original point. "Can we…encourage them to act more neutrally towards the normal population of Imardin?" Akkarin thought. Was there a way to pivot this?

"I suppose there is no harm in suggesting that rough treatment of the King's dutiful subjects is against his law and therefore common decency must be displayed in order to…not risk the consequences." Akkarin nodded to himself. "Yes, that could work quite nicely."

"Fine, I could work with that," Lorlen smiled. "Until then, though, have you got another bottle of this stuff? I wouldn't want to leave you to have to drink all of it on your own." Lorlen had picked up his empty wine glass whilst saying this and held it out to Akkarin. Akkarin raised an eyebrow at him, as he stood and took the glass.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" he asked.

"I thought there was no such thing as drinking too much?"

Akkarin chuckled slightly, and went to his drinks cabinet with both their glasses and found a new bottle.

"I've been meaning to ask- did you want to meet Sonea at some point?" Lorlen asked. Akkarin turned to look at the back of his friend's head incredulously.

"What, the girl? Good grief, no. What would she have to say to me? Indeed what would I have to say to her? No, I would like to avoid her at all costs, thank you very much."

"Alright, alright, I was only asking. It was just Lord Rothen thought if you did want to meet her, you might…" Lorlen trailed off, a hand waving absently through the air.

"Scare the living daylights out of her?" Akkarin opened the bottle and poured two glasses from it.

"Yes, that."

"A fair enough point."

"Then were all in agreement then. The living breathing legend that is our only Natural in living memory will be saved meeting the Mighty One."

Akkarin snorted. _Living, breathing legend. We'll see about that._

"So how was the King when you saw him yesterday? Still moaning about the Protection of Ancient Places bill?" Lorlen asked over his shoulder. Akkarin came back to the chairs and handed Lorlen his replenished glass.

"Well, not moaning as such, more seeming resigned to defeat." Though Akkarin started to explain the nuances of the court, his mind was still on their previous topic. It occurred to him that changing the Guild's attitudes towards the poorer citizens of their city could be advantageous to him. If, and it was only an 'if', if he ever was forced to explain why he…knew the things he knew, and did the things he did, it would be much easier to explain if the Guild had some sympathy for him having to be a slave for five long years. Yes, maybe it was time to start digging up the roots. One step at a time, one slum girl at a time.

 **What ho, my fine reader chaps! You really are too kind, reading all this. To the lovely reviewer Winting, thank you for your thoughts! I agree with you totally. When writing Akkarin's view, I was kind of writing about myself. I had a very idyllic and happy childhood, and for a long time I knew nothing about "how the other half live". I think it's important to educate ourselves on how others are forced to live, and help them if we have the chance. Now, just to let you know, the next chapter I have planned is… a little different. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on it. Until then, Cece xoxo**


	11. This Is The Moment

Chapter Eleven: This Is The Moment, See It Sparkle And Shine.

There was a moment, back when Lord Fergun was young, a young upcoming warrior of the Magicians' Guild of Kyralia when he could have chosen to be a good person. To go down the well-lit path. But, alas, he did not, I'm sorry to say. Let me explain. Let me take you back almost twenty years.

At that time, he was a slip of a boy who could be easily looked over in a crowd, he was so like all the others: fair headed, average height, enjoyed horse racing and sword fighting as much as all other boys did.

He could have, then, become what most boys from the Houses became: a bit arrogant, constantly chasing after excitement and women, but, on the whole, decent people who strived to do good for their family, for their house and for their country. Yes, Fergun could have been just like that, if circumstances had allowed him. But life, as we all know, is full of twists and turns and holes, even for those who appear to have been given everything and lack nothing.

Fergun's moment came when he was nine years old. He remembered it so vividly now, as he strode down the main corridor of the Magicians' Quarters, desperately hoping that no one spotted him. He remembered it as if it were yesterday. Because, for him, it was yesterday.

It had been a hot day in the middle of summer, now over twenty years ago, when the Kyralian skies had been a perfect sapphire blue with not a cloud in sight. Safely tucked away in their stately home with nothing to stress or vex them particularly, Fergun's family hadn't heard much about the violence occurring outside the inner circle, as the heat caused tempers and old resentments to rise. This was a mistake. Any army general will tell you that in order to defeat your enemy, or at least parley with it, you must understand it. You must respect it.

His parents, like the rest of the Houses, hadn't done this. No, they had done quite the opposite. They had spoken about the people of the slums with such derision and contempt Fergun, being a trusting and loyal child, supposed they must be correct. To him, like most children of the houses, life outside the inner circle was an uninteresting mystery. You have to understand these children were brought up without curiosity. They were only brought up with prejudice, greed and a hatred of change. How sad is that?

But children do not have to be carbon copies of their parents. Our opinions are so often dictated by our experience, what happens to us personally because of other people. You see, Fergun hadn't thought much on the topic of the lower classes for himself until after one of the first sword practice sessions of the summer.

He had taken sword practice lessons for the first time the summer before, and had instantly fallen in love with the art. He loved the way the sessions made him feel- powerful and imposing. He loved the feel of the cool metal underneath his fingertips. He loved the sounds of a clashing battle around him. It reminded him of the tapestries of ancient wars that covered the stone walls around his family home. It made him feel like a hero, and heroes are remembered. What else matters?

His instructor, a former soldier and a personal friend of the King, said Fergun had much skill and promise.

"You will go far in this, boy. Have you ever thought of becoming a knight?" He had said to Fergun, ruffling his hair, as Fergun had gazed up at him with wide eyes. Wide, innocent eyes that would have believed anything.

He gave Fergun confidence no one had before in his short life. He became a hero in Fergun's eyes, someone he could look up to and admire. Someone he could trust. Like a second father, but this father didn't beat him with his belt when he made a mistake. From that day, Fergun's dreams were full of white horses and valiant adventures as he became the most famous knight in all the land- and a simple soldier had given him all that, and there was no was Fergun could repay him. In short, he had made Fergun into the hero he had always wanted to be.

So, when a man dressed in rags jumped over the high stone wall of the practice arena, a jagged knife in his hand, a blood-curdling cry on his lips, Fergun didn't know what to do. And when the trespasser plunged said knife into the back of Fergun's hero, it left a scar on Fergun that never healed.

Even now, Fergun could hear the man screaming "justice for the people!"

As all the other boys started screaming and running to safety, as the servants ran for help and as the instructor lay dying, choking on his own blood, Fergun stood alone and still, staring at the attacker, taking in every inch of him before he was tackled to the ground by the guards that came running. He observed the man's thin frame and sunken eyes, the anger in his expression, but also how his hands trembled as he dropped the knife suddenly, as if not wanting to have anything to do with it anymore. He saw it all, a sight that no child, no human, should ever have to see.

This was the moment, you see. Fergun could have chosen to forgive the attacker. He could have decided that, whilst the man's actions were wrong, the reason behind them must be investigated and dealt with. That no one in their right, clear headed, conscious mind would do such a terrible thing. That the actions of the few do not represent the actions of the many. He could have dedicated his life to finding justice for the outer circle so that his hero's death was not in vain. Yes, this was Fergun's moment to be a good person. But, as we all know, revenge is such a tempting morsel.

The fact was, there was a part of Fergun that blamed himself. For all his dreams of being an infamous knight, he hadn't been able to save the person who he held above all others. It didn't matter that he had been only nine years old, Fergun had failed. He hadn't been the hero he had promised himself he would be. And he would never forgive himself for that.

And so, Fergun didn't choose to be a good person. Instead, this was the moment he promised justice for himself, so he could sleep at night. Justice for the people, how ironic. Round and round the revolutions go. That's why they're called revolutions. Nothing ever changes.

He had waited patiently for the opportune moment, knowing he might only have one chance. One sweet chance to prove himself vindicated. Years passed, and the boy became a man and a magician. But he knew when the time was right, it would make itself known. And it did. It took it quite by surprise. Like a stone flying through the air.

He knew, as he stopped outside Rothen's door and took in a deep breath, checking once again that the corridor was empty, that this was the moment, twenty years in the making. Twenty angry, frustrating years. The girl was alone just beyond this very door, and Rothen was plotting with his triumphant victory with the Administrator right now. Well, two can play at that game.

Fergun knocked, smiling.

This was the moment.

 **Hello again! A bit different this time, as promised. I must say before I say anything else that I pinched the title from a line in one of my fave musicals of the moment, Jekyll and Hyde. If you haven't listened to it, check it out! It's very appropriate. Now, thank you *again* to my beautiful reviewers, and to everyone following and favouriting, or even reading this to be frank. It really helps me keep going. All my love, Cece** **xox**


	12. First Sight

Chapter Twelve: First Sight

"It is decided: based on Rothen's assessment of Sonea's character, she will be permitted to join the Guild as a novice with the summer intake. The guardianship hearing for Sonea will now take place after a five-minute recess. This is a non-compulsory part of the Meet- anyone who wishes to leave may now do so, thank you for your attendance."

Akkarin watched, with amusement, as only about a third of the Guildhall occupants rose to its feet and made their way out. A Guardianship Hearing had never attracted so much attention before. He held back a chuckle as he rose from his chair and descended to the Front. He must have caught Lorlen's attention as he did so, as the Administrator turned to look at him, and a quizzical expression came over his face.

 _-You're not staying?_

 _-Her acceptance into the Guild was the limit of my interest. Plus, I have no desire to Fergun filibustering._

 _-Ha, can't say I blame you! Very well. I'll let you know how it goes._

Akkarin smiled and nodded, and strode out the room, ignoring the usual stares and intrigue. As he went through the grand entrance doors, he felt a gentle push at his mind, like someone was trying to get his attention. He slowly slightly as he focused on it.

 _-Takan?_

 _-Apologies, Master, I did not know if you were still in the meet._

 _-No apology necessary, it has just finished._

 _-A message has come from your…helpers. They say they need a word._

Akkarin rolled his eyes.

 _-If they have messed up burying the body again-_

 _-That was the impression that I got._

 _-Then I'm going to have to find new help. That's_ just _what I needed. Curse it. Thank you Takan, I'll deal with this._

Akkarin continued walking through the entrance to the University. He needed to get into the city, and as quickly as possible. That meant using the underground passageways. But he couldn't use one of the entrances to the tunnels here, the chance of being seen doing so was too great after a meet, where magicians often milled around to discuss outcomes and swap gossip. No, he'd have to go somewhere more secluded. Perhaps the-

A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked over his shoulder, back towards the Guildhall doors. Two women were standing together, whom he hadn't noticed as he left. One, the older of the pair, was dressed the garb of a Guild servant, and looked almost bored as she stood, staring at a patch of floor. The younger was wearing ordinary clothes, and was staring at him with large brown eyes. It didn't take long for logic to work out the situation.

 _So, this must be the girl. Lorlen's living, breathing legend._

After all these weeks of speculation about her, all the talk of her as if she was some mythical creature, a young girl, barely more than a child, stood before him. Though he had seen Rothen's illusion of her at the meet after the Purge, he was still surprised by the…normality of her. How could someone so…small, so uninteresting, have caused so much havoc to so many people?

Their eyes held each other's for a moment, and just like that, the most important relationship of Akkarin's life began. Not that he knew that now, obviously. The look on her eyes was one of wary caution. He assumed that she had been told about the Guild's infamous leader already, and was matching the man to the stories. Ridiculous, exaggerated stories.

Then he remembered he had more pressing worries than the girl, look away, and picked up his pace. He mentally berated himself- how could let himself be distracted when he was needed urgently elsewhere.

Finding people who were able to both be discrete about what he was doing and able to perform the task of burying the bodies of the Sachakans had so far proved to be an impossible task. Over the last few years, he had tried several different groups of men, obviously threatened their silence over everything they held dear, but none had been able to live up to the task. If they were efficient they weren't discrete, if they were discrete they were too slow. And sometimes they weren't either. Akkarin had considered the Thieves, but the price they would put on such a task would be too high to pay. No, perhaps he was going to have to take a different tac in trying to find suitable…help.

Following the mental map of the university passages he had clearly memorised in his head, Akkarin followed the winding corridors until he reached the painting he was looking for, this time a forest scene. It was a curious picture, as there appeared to be globe light hanging underneath the branches of the trees, but there was no sight of the magicians who had made them. But now was not the time for considered such mysteries. Checking the corridor was quiet, as he had done countless times before, he stooped into the hidden passage behind the painting. As he carefully stepped through the gap, his eyes were drawn to the passage floor.

And to the footprints there that weren't his own.

He crouched, considering the prints. It was a Guild boot alright, but the wrong size, and the tread was different. And, most importantly, it was brand new. He looked down the passage. The same prints carried on down the passageway. At this discovery Akkarin sighed. This wasn't just some curious young magician wanting taking a peek into the mysterious underbelly of the University. This was someone who was more adventurous.

He rose, and began stalking down the passage. He didn't bother to make globe light, as he knew the passages well enough by now. As his boot scuffed roughly against the floor, he realised how incredibly annoyed he was.

The presence of other magicians in the passageways was concerning. Not only were the tunnels very old and therefore could potentially collapse, they hadn't been build to withstand the weight that the Guild now was above them, it was more the concern about other magicians seeing him down here that bothered him. No one would ever question him, of course, but if someone was to put enough pieces of the jigsaw together… Secrets, Akkarin had found, were not made from one surface, not smooth like a stone, only one fact to hide. They were like shards of a hard object. They had many faces, many, many different facts made them up. Collects enough of the faces, see enough of the shards, and you can get a good idea of what a person is hiding. And this particular secrets had some very sharp edges indeed, enough to seriously damage anyone who stumbled across it.

As he walked, he thought he heard something. Something that sounded disturbingly like a second set of footsteps. He paused. Yes, definitely another set, coming from further down the passageway he was on. Picking up his pace, he followed the sound. As he rounded a corner, he saw a globe light in the distance. And the silhouette of a magician in front of it. He must be one of the Guild's taller members, as his head almost grazed the top of the passageway. Suddenly, the magician stopped. He leaned forward, hands against the wall, taking in the floor as well as he dropped into a crouch.

Something had clearly caught his attention. But what? And who was this over-curious man?

Akkarin crept closer, trying not to make a sound as he got closer to the magician. He winced as his boot kicked a stone against the wall, but the magician didn't react. Then, as he got close enough to see the individual hairs on the back of the magician's neck, Akkarin finally recognised him.

 _Oh,_ of course _it's him._

He sighed, irritated at both himself and this unwelcome guest.

"Lord Dannyl. Might I enquire as to your reasons for being down here?" he spoke softly, but with a stern edge to his voice.

Dannyl rose and spun round like he had been pulled with an invisible string, and Akkarin almost laughed out loud.

"High Lord, I- I have reason to believe there was something going on down here, and I though that, whilst everyone was busy with the hearing, I would take the opportunity to- to- see if I could be of any use finding out what. I…" he eventually trailed off, a deep flush covering his face.

Akkarin stared at him impassively, enjoying watching the squirm that went through the Alchemist. "I shouldn't have to remind you that these passages are very old and the tunnels are extensive. It is easy to become disorientated. Magicians have been lost for days and returned starved. I suggest you retrace your steps."

"Yes, High Lord, of course. And can I just say how very sorry I am to have caused you-"

"Thank you, Lord Dannyl, that will be all."

"Yes, High Lord."

Dannyl all but ran back down the passage. Once he was a safe distance away, Akkarin made a globe light, and looked at where Dannyl had been feeling. It was a door. removed the magical binding from the door and pulled it open.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The odour of human waste was so strong he almost took a step backwards. The second thing he noticed was the boy, backed up into a corner, a hand over his eyes to protect it from the bright globe light. Taking pity, Akkarin dimmed it, but then curiosity got the better of him.

"Who are you? What are you doing down here?" If he sounded confused, it probably was because he was. The boy was thin, dirty, like the dogs he sometimes saw roaming the streets of slums. From the look of him and the smell, it was clear he had been down here for quite some time.

The boy looked at him for the first time through squinted eyes. He took in Akkarin, and suddenly his eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. Clearly the boy recognised…something about him.

"An answer some time today would helpful."

The boy pushed himself away from the wall. "M-my name is Cery. I'm a friend of Sonea's. I came to see her, then Fergun put me in here."

Akkarin stared at him, wondering how to proceed. This must be the boy Lorlen had said Fergun had pulled out hedge by his hair. The one who Fergun had shown out of the university. Except he clearly hadn't. But how? Why?

He crossed his arms across his chest. "Explain."

As the boy, Cery, told his story, from his capture by Fergun, to his conversation with Sonea, to being left with Fergun, who had dragged him into the passages and locked him in here with next to no explanation. Well, until he had been allowed to speak to Sonea again.

Akkarin said nothing whilst the young man spoke, just listened and felt the grip of his fingers on his arms increase as the story went on. By the time Cery finished his tale, one single thought was going round Akkarin's mind.

 _I'm going to kill him._

 **Hi everyone! This took me quite a while to right, I just couldn't get the feel of it for some reason, so apologies for the delay. How are y'all? Good? Yeah, me too! It's blisteringly hot here, and we Brits are terrible at the heat, me included. I've had some lovely reviews since last we spoke- someone said they read all the chapters in one sitting and I blushed to myself, how sweet it that! I know that Sonea has been rather absent, I am planning on her being much more present once I get to The Novice and The High Lord. I'm planning to finish TMG in the next three chapters, just so you have a rough idea** **Lovelovelove Cece xox**


	13. Do You Know Who I Am?

Chapter Thirteen: Do You Know Who I Am?

"She said he was doing it so that no-one will ever think dwells could be magicians!" Cery said, eyes wide and angry, dirty hands balled into fists at his sides.

All Akkarin could do was nod to himself, taking the fascinating story in in all its horror. "That does sound like Fergun." _I should have realised something like this would happen when Fergun offered to take this boy out of the Guild. You're getting older and slower by the day, Delvon._

What else could he say? It did sound like Fergun- the idiotic, malicious, unfeeling brute that he was. And the Guild needed to know all this. Yet again, Akkarin found himself angry at the Warrior, as once again he had surprised him. And Akkarin truly hated being surprised. Not only did this man need to be punished, he needed to be _stopped._ Because one day, some day, he could become far more disruptive, in ways that have far, far more disastrous effects.

"The Hearing is taking place now," he continued, looking Cery straight in the eyes. He was impressed that the young man did not look away, but looked back at him with no fear, just wonder. "I can reveal Fergun's crimes, but only if I have proof he is the man you speak of."

Cery seemed to consider this, as he looked around the small room. He shrugged. "I've got nothing 'cept the things he gave me, but he has my knives and tools, would that be enough?"

 _I'm not sure I want to know what he means by 'tools'._

Akkarin shook his head, regretting already what he was going to have to do.

"No, what I need is in your memories. Will you allow me to read your mind?"

He heard Cery take in a sharp breath, then bite down on his bottom lip. Akkarin regretted have to ask him to do such a thing- letting someone into your mind is a very personal, trusting act at the best of times, and after one has been locked up in a dirty cell for weeks by someone from the same group- well, Akkarin wouldn't blame him for not wanting to. Then suddenly, Cery straightened his back and looked back at him.

"Sure. Do it."

Akkarin was quietly impressed with the young man's courage, but didn't want to patronise Cery by showing it.

"It will not harm or hurt," he said softly, hoping his voice sounded reassuring. "Close your eyes."

Cery did so, and Akkarin reached forward, letting his fingertips gentle brush Cery's temples. Closing his own eyes, he sent his mind forth, and let it waft gently into the mind he could sense next to his own, like smoke leaving a pipe and drifting away.

It was always a peculiar sensation, looking into the mind of someone who didn't have magical ability. It was opening the door to a room in a house that the owner had no idea they had. Which made the experience feel all the more personal.

 _-Think of the day your friend was captured,_ he sent. An image of a snow-filled alley immediately filled the mind he was looking into. As he had been shown many years before, he captured it and replayed it, watching with interest as the girl was caught. Then a man stood above him, the family oily hair and smile making him look like one of the illustrated evil characters from the books Akkarin had read as a child. Now for details.

 _-This is the man that captured you?_

 _-Yes._

 _-Show me how._

An image of the Magicians' Quarters from the garden side appeared. Then it showed the boy being pulled out of the foliage by Fergun. When Lorlen and Rothen appeared, Akkarin was almost amused at the way the memory had made them seem frightening. Cery was taken to Sonea next, and for the sake of their privacy, Akkarin skipped ahead. No need to peek around unnecessarily. No need to take advantage, like Fergun had. He continued watching once Fergun was taking him through the university…then not through the university. A confused, uncertain memory of the passages followed, until a door was slammed behind him. Akkarin did well to hold back the wave of anger that he could feel in his own mind. _Keep going, stay focused._

 _-When did you see him next?_

A mix of visits from Fergun followed, all following a similar pattern. The sense of time was distorted, but that was to be expected. But then something different: Sonea appeared, and again Akkarin left that memory alone. He had seen enough. The cruelty he had seen had been enough to turn even his strong stomach. Akkarin had to do some awful things, he would never deny that, but he hoped, he certainly hoped he hoped, that he wasn't a _cruel_ person. There is a difference between having to make awful decisions and making cruel ones.

He pulled his fingers away from the boy's head, and Cery immediately opened his eyes, looking up at him expectantly.

"That is more than enough," Akkarin told him, and relief shone from Cery's face. "Come with me. We must hurry if we want to attend the hearing."

Not waiting for a reply, he turned around and out of the room. Globe light following him, he stalked back down the passage, back the way he had come earlier, hoping that Dannyl was well out of the way by now. He could hear the patter of feet as Cery had to jog slightly to keep up with him. Finally reaching the way out of the passages, Akkarin put his eye to the spy hole to check the hallway was clear. No sense revealing himself and the boy if he didn't have to.

"Thanks for helping me," Cery said suddenly. "There's probably nothing that a petty thief could offer in return, but if you need anything, just ask."

Akkarin turned from the spyhole to regard the boy. Did he understand what he was asking? Regarding Cery, he realised that the girl must mean an awful lot to him for him to make such a bold offer.

 _Oh, so it's like_ that, _is it?_

"Do you know who I am?" he said, deciding it would be impolite and unnecessary to inquire into the details of their relationship. But he was intrigued. He wasn't trying to stand on ceremony or pull rank, he wanted the boy to know who he was dealing with. He wanted complete honesty, he deserved that. Even in the dim light of the globe light, he could see Cery's face turn pink.

"Of course," he replied. "There's nothing the likes of you would ever need from me. Seemed right to offer, though."

Akkarin was once again impressed by the boy's natural bravery. This wasn't a front, this wasn't a little boy trying to act like a grown man. This was a boy with natural courage and wits that novices his age could only ever aspire to.

A thought occurred to him then.

" _A message has come from your…helpers. They say they need a word."_

He needed to replace his hired team in the slums, that much was obvious. And it seemed, on the very day that fact became apparent, this boy fell quite by accident into his life, like a leaf falling onto your hand, when it couldn't have fallen anywhere. This was someone who could do the jobs they had done ten times better, if Akkarin's feeling about Cery was correct. And the boy owed him, making him more likely to comply. _Yes, this could work out very well. For both of us._

"Do you truly mean what you said?" He hoped he sounded firm, but not unpleasant.

Cery looked away then, hesitancy coming over him for the first time.

"Of course," he said, a forced calmness in his voice. Even when pushed, he was still willing to keep his word. That meant he could work well under pressure. Even better. Akkarin found himself smiling then, but schooled his expression. He looked Cery steadily in the eye. Now was not the time to explain what he had in mind, but perhaps they could make an informal agreement, of sorts.

"I'm not going to force you to make a bargain with me," he began. "No matter what you say, Fergun's actions must be revealed and punished. Your friend will be free to go, if that is what she wants." _Though I genuinely hope it isn't._ "But I may contact you some time in the future. I will not ask for anything beyond your abilities, or that which will compromise your place with the Thieves. It will be up to you to decide if what I ask is acceptable. Is that reasonable?"

Cery broke their eye contact, but nodded slowly. "It is."

Akkarin, pleased with himself, and pleased at least some good had come out of this ridiculous situation, extended his hand to the boy. Cery took it.

"Agreed," Cery said.

 _Oh Fergun, you messed with the wrong boy._

"Agreed."

But there were more urgent matters to attend to now. Time was running out. If the Guild followed its ancient rules, and Fergun's plan was going as expected, the Higher Magicians would have no option but to grant Sonea's guardianship to Fergun. Undoing that would be difficult, but stopping it before it occurred would be perfect. Exposing and humiliating Fergun in front of an audience: perfect. Seeing the hallway was clear, Akkarin opened the door and walked briskly back to the main corridor of the university.

"Where am I?" Cery asked behind him, in a voice that suggested he was clearly impressed by his surroundings.

"In the University," Akkarin said over his shoulder, not particularly wanting to be drawn into any kind of conversation. "Follow me."

He hurried down the corridor, hearing the patter of feet close behind him. He heard the boy murmur something to himself, but didn't quite catch the words. They eventually reached the Guildhall doors, standing closed and impressive in the evening light. Cery's gasp was confirmation of that. Akkarin turned to the boy.

"The hearing is happening inside here. There are a lot of magicians in there, as well as your friend. Will that bother you?"

Cery's lips twitched into a thin smile.

"After what one of your lot just did to me, I don't think there's much more for me to be afraid of when it comes to magicians."

Akkarin smiled back, nodded gently. _Oh, how little you know._

Gently, so as not to make a sound to disturb the hearing, Akkarin pulled the doors open. And not a moment too soon, by the sounds of it.

"Quiet, please," Osen called, and Akkarin watched as the room soon settled into a silence full of anticipation.

"From the accounts given today, we can clearly see that Lord Fergun was the first to recognise Sonea's abilities, does anybody contest this conclusion?"

Lorlen had said that the Guild's papa should only get involved with Fergun when he had done something "truly spectacular". Well, that moment had come. _This_ was Akkarin's moment. And he used his moment far better than Fergun had used his. He pulled the door open and came into the room.

"I do," he said.

 **Hello! Lovely to see you all again (well, I can't see you, but you know what I mean.) As ever, please let me know what you think- you are all so wonderful at saying lovely things (which is amazing, thank you so much). Also, shout out to Oxara with your latest review- I'm so glad you got how I tried to capture Sonea! She is one of my favourite characters ever, and one of the reasons for that is her normality at the beginning. Yes, she's awesome, but she gets scared and scary High Lords freak her out like they would do me! Don't worry, I'll be sure to show loads of her badass side as well** **Love, Cece xox**


	14. The Death of Innocence (Part I)

Chapter Fourteen: The Death of Innocence (Part I)

The room appeared to turn. He heard his companion take in a sharp intake of breath at the movement. A hundred eyes on him, wide and confused, Akkarin strode down the central aisle of the Guildhall. The room then appeared to ripple as the magicians all hastily bowed as he walked passed them. Then a voice, high and full of emotion, pierced the silence in the room.

"Cery!"

It was the girl. She was staring at her friend in amazement and obvious relief. She looked as if she was going to go to Cery, but then she suddenly looked up at Akkarin, and froze. She looked at him as if he was the one who had locked up her friend. The fear in her eyes didn't seem to properly correlate with what she must have been told about him, and he thought it curious.

He considered her. Who was this girl, that the young man beside him would risk everything to capture her? Who was this girl, that she could send the whole Guild into chaos, now two times over? He considered her, the normality of her, and frowned to himself. Who was this girl, who could get the High Lord of the Magicians' Guild so…intrigued by her? Who _was_ this girl?

"He found me and let me out, everything's going to be fine!" Cery was saying to her. Sonea looked at him in confusion, then back at the High Lord. Curiosity, rather than fear, now controlled her features. Clearly the tremendous stories she had been told about the Guild's infamous leader didn't add to someone who also rescued street urchins from dirty cells. Not that he particularly minded having such a reputation. He was, despite all evidence to the contrary, on the side of the angels, but that didn't mean he had to act like one.

Time to get on with the matter at hand, though. He gestured at Cery to stay where he was, and nodded to Osen to continue the Hearing. Taking the steps up the Higher Magicians' seats, he reached his own just as Osen was asking him his reasons for contesting the conclusion. Every pair of eyes were pinned to his own, and he could have laughed at the expressions of guilty intrigue on the faces of most of their owners if the situation wasn't so serious.

"Evidence of deception, the girl has been forced to lie," he said, settling himself into his seat.

As a mass intake of breath occurred, Akkarin caught a movement in the corner of his eye as Lorlen turned around in his seat and his eyes went straight to Akkarin's. He gave him a "what in the blazes is going on?" look, hands spreading slightly in his lap. Akkarin smiled at Lorlen's incredulity, and made a slight shrug in response, giving him a "Don't look at me, I just found myself in the middle of this" look. Lorlen rolled his eyes. "Of course you did," the action said. He would want all the details later, no doubt. After this was all over and the boy was safe and fed, it would make a good story to tell.

"He made me lie! He said he would kill Cery if I didn't do what he said."

Both Akkarin and Lorlen turned back to look at the Front. It was Sonea who had spoken. Gone was the girl who had run from the North Quarter in sheer panic. Gone was the girl who had been silenced and threatened. This girl, this Sonea, was different. She seemed taller, stronger, older, with a blaze of anger in her eyes and justice on her side. This wasn't Sonea the slum girl. This was Sonea the magician. _That_ was who this girl was, and Akkarin was almost impressed by her.

Osen declared that a truth-read must be carried out, and asked who should be the one to do it. Lorlen rose gracefully, taking his privilege as the Guild's chief decision-maker to be the one to do it. Akkarin wondered if he was doing it just to find out his own part in the rather peculiar business.

Lorlen stepped down to The Front and spoke softly to Sonea. She nodded in response at what he told her, her eyes now holding some of the familiar fear from before, but she seemed calmer now. _Now she knows her friend isn't about to have his throat slashed._

Lorlen moved to the familiar gesture of placing his hands on her temples. Both their eyes closed, and an expectant hush fell over the Guildhall, only interrupted by the occasional cough or scuff of boots on the polished floor. It was so quiet, a pin dropping to the floor probably would have started some of the attendees.

Lorlen and Sonea stayed like that for an oddly long amount of time. Truth reads were normally fairly quick affairs, but something was holding this one up. Akkarin drummed his fingers on the arm of his seat, and assumed it must be due to the girl's lack of experience with mind communication- it was probably taking her time to show Lorlen what needed to be shown. But that wouldn't explain the deep frown that came over Lorlen's face just a moment or so ago…He supposed he could have offered to do it, that would have been easier from the girl's perspective…but he felt he had invaded enough privacy for one day, having already read the mind of her friend.

Then he remembered Cery's feelings for the girl. Akkarin pondered how they had interacted with one another- from her side at least, she didn't seem to look at him in _that_ way, just the way one friend would look at another. But the way that Cery was looking at her now…when he had first seen her in the Guildhall, it was like the sun came out. So perhaps it was a one sided attraction, or he had read to much into Cery's motives…Why was he even thinking about it?

 _Oh, hurry up, old friend!_

Suddenly, as if on cue, Lorlen took in a deep breath and opened his eyes. He looked at Sonea with a glint in his eyes Akkarin hadn't seen before, so he couldn't place what it meant. It wasn't a good glint, though. After a pregnant pause, Lorlen dragged his eyes to the Higher Magicians. "She speaks the truth," he declared. The silence that followed was almost as deafening as the cacophony of voices that came seconds after. Lorlen raised his hand for silence, and was given it surprisingly swiftly.

As Lorlen began to explain what had happened, Akkarin was surprised at how calm his friend was. There was none of the irritation or anger in his voice that Akkarin would have expected, given his reaction to some of Fergun's other exploits. It was almost wearisome, like he was simply done with being angry with the Warrior, and didn't want to give Fergun the satisfaction of getting under his skin any more. And Akkarin was proud of him for that- there is nothing your enemy loves better than making you angry, so don't give them the satisfaction. With a perfunctory efficiency, Lorlen told Fergun, without properly looking at him, that he would be held accountable for his actions at a meeting in three days' time. Akkarin enjoyed the ashen pallor that came over Fergun's face, before the familiar hautiness returned to disguise it. Lorlen turned on his heel and climbed up the tiered seating to his own place. Akkarin smiled his approval at him, but Lorlen didn't look up to reach his gaze, only quickly turned and seated himself.

The rest of the meet happened very quickly and as Akkarin would have expected it to. Fergun was diminished, which was right and proper. Rothen was made Sonea's guardian, for time being at least, and that was right and proper. Osen disbanded the meeting, but no one seemed in a particular hurry to leave, too interested in discussing the meet's events. Everyone except Lorlen, that is.

As he watched Lorlen rise from his seat and quickly move down the hall, Akkarin stood.

 _-Lorlen?_

Lorlen didn't reply.

- _Lorlen!_

Still no reply. Akkarin frowned.

"Lorlen!" He called vocally, an unusual action for him.

But still the Administrator didn't turn. But he must have heard, as the other magicians around him turned to look at the High Lord as he called.

Akkarin stood and pondered this for a while. Perhaps Lorlen had a headache after the Truth Read and wanted to rest, it had been a long one. Perhaps he had been so engrossed in his own thoughts that he genuinely hadn't heard. Then a more worrying thought occurred to him: what if Lorlen didn't want to speak to him?

He shook his head, dispelling the thought from is mind. He mustn't let the darkness creep into the few light areas of his life. No, never that.

But still, he wondered.

 **Thank you so much for reading! Also a massive thank you for Oxara, my star reviewer, who not only reviewed but sent me a book recommendation! There is nothing like reading, so if any of you have any suggestions of books for me to read (which at least have an English translation, my language skills are terrible!), I would *love* that. One more chapter for Book One, and this one you're gonna want to read** **See you there! Cece xox**


	15. What A Shame All Good Things Must End

Chapter Fifteen: What A Shame All Good Things Must End

 _"It's Lorlen, isn't it? Lorlen of Perin?"_

 _Lorlen looked up quickly, pulled from his deep thoughts by the unexpected use of his name. He hadn't heard anyone come up to him, so a voice so close to him had surprised him. He also wasn't used to boys his age making conversation with him. He had always been something of an 'oddball', as his older brothers had charmingly put it, and normally boys only made conversation with him to tease him._

 _"It is Lorlen, right? I heard Director Jerrick say it at the Acceptance Ceremony yesterday."_

 _The boy standing next to him had a good humoured expression and was fairly tall for his age. He obviously a Kyralian, with his close to black hair and pale skin. His new novices' robes fitted him well. He raised his eyebrows above his dark eyes at Lorlen._

 _"You do speak, don't you?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"What question was that answer in response to?"_

 _"Both questions, I suppose- yes, I am Lorlen and yes, I speak."_

 _A half smile curled the boy's lips._

 _"Now we're getting somewhere." he sat down on the desk next to Lorlen's. "How come I've never come across you before?"_

 _"Oh, my family spend most of their time in the country. They don't enjoy city life."_

 _"And how are you finding it? City life, I mean?"_

 _Lorlen considered. "Different," he said eventually._

 _The boy nodded wisely, swinging his legs, the bright buckles on his new boots catching the light. Lorlen was impressed by him, but he wasn't quite sure why. He also wasn't sure why the boy had chosen him to talk to, out of all the other, more exciting boys in the classroom, but he wasn't about to ask. He didn't want to break the spell._

" _Yeah, I suppose it is," the boy said. "We, my family that is, spend time in both. I think I prefer the city, though, it's more…exciting."_

 _Lorlen wanted to find something to say. "Well, I am quite enjoying it really- I mean, being away from my family is pretty good," he stammered out._

 _The boy grinned broadly. "Oh, I know the feeling! I was on the verge of despair. If my mother had dragged me to one more House gathering, I was going to run away. They are always so dull, don't you find?"_

 _Lorlen leaned forward on his elbows towards the boy, smiling back. "Yeah, one more wet kiss from some old great-aunt who couldn't care less about me and I would have done the same!"_

" _Ha, you have one of those old bags too!"_

 _Both boys laughed. A silence settled between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable._

" _So, speaking of families, do you have any siblings here?" The boy asked._

" _Me? Oh, no. I have two older brothers but they were needed back home."_

" _And you weren't, so they shipped you off to Imardin to make yourself useful? Bring your family honour and all that?"_

" _Something like that."_

" _Hmm. Are the Houses lovely in that tradition? Really makes you feel wanted."_

" _You're the same, then?"_

" _Oh, no. I'm the oldest. I have two younger sisters, annoying little pests." The boy made a grimace and rolled his eyes, and Lorlen tittered, then considered what his companion had said._

" _But you were sent here, despite being the only boy, and the oldest?"_

" _Oh, yeah."_

" _How did that happen?"_

" _Something about…'extremely high magical potential'." The boy let out a soft laugh that to Lorlen sounded derisive. "Whatever that means. A shame to be wasted, apparently."_

" _Oh," Lorlen said, feeling his face go hot and he looked away. This could end up becoming very embarrassing, if this boy was going to be better at everything than him._

" _Oh, don't misunderstand me, that's the reason that's down on paper. The real reason is my mother has had enough of me, and this was the perfect opportunity to be rid of me. My sisters can be used for…breeding purposes. For keeping the bloodlines strong, the line of succession untainted, etcetera etcetera." He grimaced again, but this time the expression seemed more genuine. Then his face smoothed, and he looked at Lorlen with humour in his eyes. "I'm Akkarin, by the way, seeing as you never asked. Akkarin of Delvon."_

 _"Oh, sorry. I… Nice to meet you, Akkarin."_

 _Lorlen held out his hand. Akkarin took it with a smile and shook it._

" _So what does Family Perin do for fun in the good old country?"_

 _Lorlen waited for his mind to catch up with the sudden change in conversation. "Umm, well we swim a lot, and ride too."_

" _You ride? Do you keep up with the races then?"_

" _Yes, absolutely!"_

" _Wasn't Thunder Wind a revelation this year? I got to see him win against Bright Spark, you know."_

" _You did?! Wow! What was that like?"_

" _Incredible. After such a boring summer, it just about woke me up in time to come here."_

" _Hmm, we probably won't have time for such things now."_

" _Sadly, I think you may be right. Still, there will be plenty of other things to keep us entertained." Akkarin looked around the room, then smiled slyly. "Or people." He then cocked his head to one side, and looked at Lorlen with a serious expression. "You know, I like the sound of you, which is unusual for me, trust me. Both unwanted children from powerful houses, sent away to gain our ungrateful parents great prestige, with an interest in horses that must sadly be abandoned. Yes, I think that we could be great friends, Lorlen of Perin, if that would suit you?"_

 _Lorlen smiled back at him._

" _Yes, I believe it would, Akkarin of Delvon."_

" _Good, then it's decided."_

It was as simple as that, really. A few minutes conversation and a handshake. They were always meant to be friends, you see.

 _They both turned as they heard raucous laughter. Three of the boys were standing on the other side of the room. Two were taking the stance that sportsmen did when wrestling, the other was watching closely, grinning. Then the boys seemed to launch themselves at each other, and the other novices around the room began to cheer._

 _Lorlen moved uncomfortably in his seat. He had never been good at violence, even in a sporting form like this. There was enough hate in the world, enough people fighting each other over conflicts they couldn't even remember how they started, without adding to it in the form of a pointless game. Why couldn't people put their talents to better uses, to create rather than to destruct?_

 _Akkarin snorted softly as one boy slipped and almost fell in the middle of a punch, then turned back round to look at Lorlen. He seemed to notice his companion's unease, as his expression softened._

" _Don't worry- round here, I very much doubt physical strength will be valued highly for very long. And not by me at all, really."_

 _Lorlen smiled at him, grateful. Akkarin smiled ruefully back._

 _Suddenly the door to the classroom opened and a severe looking Alchemist strode in. The wrestlers managed to throw themselves into the nearest chairs before he noticed what they had been doing, even if they were breathing suspiciously hard. The teacher glanced around the room, then looked at Akkarin pointedly, who slid from the desk he was sitting on to the chair. He looked at Lorlen with an "oops" expression, and Lorlen had to smother a laugh behind a cough._

 _Over the course of the lesson, the boys were split up as the teacher had them go into separate rooms to have their powers loosened. They were in and out of the classroom at different times, so when the lesson ended and class disbursed for the mid-break, Lorlen found himself in the busy university corridor, alone again. He sighed, and began walking. He had to remind himself, it was only the first day. Then he heard a familiar voice shouting his name from behind, and he smiled._

 _"Lorlen! Lorlen! Lor-_

-Lorlen!"

The same voice, a decade or so older, brought the Guild's Administrator back from the past.

He ignored it, almost pushing through the throng of magicians. Some of them tried to get his attention, called his name, but he ignored it all. And hoped the tears that were welling up behind his eyes were not visible.

 _Curse the girl. Curse her and her curiosity._

Once outside the Guildhall, he all but ran back to his office, leaving a trail of enquiring glances behind him.

 _No- that's not fair. Don't curse Sonea. She didn't know what she was doing. Didn't know what she was doing, or seeing._

He needed time to think. He needed to go back to his office, to sit in the dark and think and think and think. He needed to work out what exactly had just happened, what exactly he had seen.

One thing was certain, though. That the best friendship he had ever had and probably ever would have had gone up in flames, a fire that could not be put out. It was already lapping at his feet, threatening to grow higher and higher until it consumed him. The burns were already extraordinarily painful.

All those years. All that trust. All the secrets exchanged, worries confessed, difficult times waded through together. And, just as quickly as the sun slips behind the horizon at night, it was gone. Like it had never existed. The anchor that kept Lorlen from drifting, holding him sometimes from complete despair when the responsibilities of his Office got to great, was cast away. And Lorlen was already drifting.

 _No, don't curse her. Curse_ him. _Curse him and_ his _curiosity. His sense of entitlement, his intelligence, his need to be the best._

Reaching his office, Lorlen flung the door open, then leaned against it, so it closed against his back with a sharp click.

 _Curse him for betraying me. For lying and pretending to be someone he's not, for who knows how long. Maybe the entire time._

He felt his knees weaken beneath him and he sank to the floor. Knees at his chest, he put his head in his arms and began to cry.

What a shame. What a shame all good things must come to an end.

 ***Gulps*! I wanted to do one last chapter with L &A before moving into The Novice, because I don't get to write this kind of chapter again, that makes me so sad! So well done to everyone who made it through The Magicians' Guild, you truly are awesome! And now, onto the Novice! Exciting times! Love, Cece xox**


	16. And So, It Begins

Chapter Sixteen: And So, It Begins

For a few weeks each summer in Kyralia, it really did become too hot to wear black. It is the absolute worst colour for when the sun beats down on the city of Imardin like a blast furnace. This was particularly the case when the black you have to wear was the colour of thick robes, such as the Magicians of the Guild wore.

Of course, the Guild's leader did his utmost to not make this fact apparent, particularly at important ceremonies. Such as today's, the Acceptance Ceremony of the summer intake. As Akkarin walked into the Guildhall with the University Director, he tried to ignore the trail of sweat he could feel running down his neck. It really was ridiculously hot. But at least the Guildhall, with its lofty ceiling and stone interior, was cooler than many other places around the city right now.

Glancing over at Jerrick, Akkarin noticed, with irritation, that the University Director seemed completed unaffected by the heat. As was traditional at both Acceptance and Graduation ceremonies, the University Director entered with the High Lord as a gesture to the importance of the Director in organising and carrying out the education of all the novices, and therefore of all the magicians of the Guild. Jerrick took the privilege very seriously, which amused Akkarin more than was probably proper. It was just walking into a room, for goodness' sake. But all actions have consequences, even if they are only symbolic ones.

"What a wonderful day for such an auspicious occasion. Don't you agree, High Lord?" Jerrick said, smiling and nodding to the magicians who bowed as they passed. Akkarin looked at him curiously.

"You believe so, Director?"

"Indeed. One of my predecessors said that if the weather is good on the day of an Acceptance Ceremony, then the intake are predicted to shine just as brightly."

"Hmm," Akkarin said, holding back a chuckle. _What nonsense._

 _"Akkarin of Family Delvon, House Veran."_

 _Akkarin told himself he wasn't afraid. He wasn't. "Delvon boys are brave boys", his father would say to him, when he fell off his horse at a canter or woke up in a sweat from a bad nightmare. "They don't fear anything." But now that Akkarin wasn't so young, he wondered, is it possible to be brave_ without _fear?_

 _So he kept to his own rule now: even if you are afraid, don't you dare show it._

 _As his name was called, he stepped away from the line of the other novices, bowed to the Director, and spoke the Novices' vow in a calm voice. He was handed a bundle of robes, and the room erupted into applause once again, as it had for every candidate. In the corner of his eye, he could see his parents. They were watching him in the same way that vultures circle over a carcass. Watching, waiting. Weighing the risks. It would be a disturbing look to see in the eyes of your parents, if you hadn't seen that look every single day in your living memory._

 _He knew his parents viewed him like a pawn in a huge game of chess, one that had being going on since long before he was born. Sending him to the Guild was a risk- their eldest child, their only son- but a calculated one. They had been reliably informed he would excel. If he did, he could gain even greater prestige for their already bountiful House through his prowess, marry impeccably highly and father sons who would carry on the invinsible family line and strong magical blood. He would be, in their eyes, untouchable._

 _But Akkarin had no plans to acquiesce to such plans. And he realised, standing here, at the heart of the most powerful faction of Allied Lands' society, that he no longer had to play. He could just as easily smash the board. Even at the tender age of fifteen, he saw through the frivolities of court, the vanity of the Houses, the idiocy of the game. He had no desire to stoop to that level. After all, it was just that: a game. When a game is over and everyone goes home, nothing of importance has actually changed._

 _So whilst Akkarin didn't hold his Acceptance Ceremony as particularly important in and of itself, it was the day he decided he wasn't a pawn. He wasn't even a knight or a king. No, he was one better- he was a magician. And magicians are above such games._

Jerrick stirred him from this thoughts. "You seem to be pondering something, may I ask what?"

Akkarin blinked, and smiled ruefully. "Oh, I was just trying to remember what the weather was like on my Acceptance Day."

"I believe it was a day very much like this one, High Lord," Jerrick said with a smile.

Akkarin gave him a half smile in return.

"Well, whatever happens, this group certainly will be an interesting one," Jerrick said.

 _Since when was anything that the novices did interesting?_

"How so, Director?"

"Well, with our first recruit from outside the Houses is in this group. For many centuries, at any rate."

Oh yes, Sonea. She had temporarily vacated Akkarin's mind. He had not seen her in the six months since the Guardianship Hearing, but he heard from Lorlen, who was told by Rothen, that she was progressing well in the basic education required to join the University. Clearly Jerrick was very interested in her progress in the University, but Akkarin failed to see why it was so interesting. Apart from the social aspect of her being an outsider compared to her classmates, there was no reason she couldn't do just as well as any other novice.

"Ah, yes, I had forgotten. I hope for your sake that she settles in well," Akkarin said.

"As do I, I don't need her stirring up trouble. I am busy enough as it is," Jerrick replied gruffly. Akkarin looked at him, but Jerrick didn't seem to notice.

 _Not really what I was referring to, but alright then._

They separated at The Front. Akkarin went and stood beside Lorlen, whilst Akkarin carried on up the stairs to his usual. He caught Lorlen's eye, looked pointed at Jerrick and rolled his eyes. Lorlen gave him a small, knowing smile in return, but his attention was quickly drawn aside by Osen. He nodded at something his assistant said, and the younger man quickly dashed away to the back of the hall.

As often happened, as Akkarin sat himself down, a hush went over the hall. Even though the ceremony didn't officially start until the Guildhall doors were opened for the candidates, they seemed to take his readiness as the cue to be quiet. Not that he was complaining.

Before long, the doors were opened.

Osen led in a line of a dozen or so youths. Most of them looked around the Guildhall in wide eyed amazement, having never seen its splendour before.

One didn't though.

Sonea held herself with quiet assurance as she calmly followed her classmates. Akkarin was pleased to see she looked a lot healthier than the last time he had seen her- the skin didn't cling so much to the bones of her face, and there was a lively light in her eyes, though she was as composed as any girl from the Houses would have been in such a situation.

 _Rothen_ has _done well._

Jerrick, with his usual pomp and ceremony, began with his usual speech, that had been passed down from Director to Director, on the purpose of the Novices' Vow. As he droned on, Akkarin took the opportunity to consider the guests in the room. He had plenty of opportunity to study his fellow magicians, but not so much the members of the Houses. Particularly now, now he was in the slums more often than at court.

They were the same kind of people as always came. Beaming faces, proud shared looks, even the odd clenched fist in anxiety. To say goodbye to one's little darlings at such a time must be very difficult for some. But then again, as Akkarin knew all too well, sometimes they couldn't wait to be rid of you.

Akkarin brought his attention back to proceedings as Jerrick turned and looked up at him, and recited the ancient traditional words.

"High Lord Akkarin, do you wish to claim guardianships of any of these entrants?"

"I do not," he replied with his own traditional words.

Lorlen had asked him on more than one occasion why he didn't take on a novice's guardianship. At first he had recoiled in pretend insult, demanding why his friend thought him old enough to take on a novice's training. When Lorlen had replied by saying there were absolutely no rules about age in guardianship, he had said he had seen no novice of interest. Then he had simply said he had no interest in having to have daily conversations with a gormless child. Lorlen had laughed loudly at that and had given up. Akkarin sighed. It had been a long time since he had heard his friend laugh like that- too caught up in all the work he had missed during the drama that had swirled around Sonea. Now, hopefully things would calm down, and the friends would be able to see more of each other.

For now though, Akkarin watched with what he hoped was an interested expression, as Garrel and his nephew, Regin, said the appropriate words to seal the guardianship agreement. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, until they moved to the side. Then Regin looked at Sonea. The look was almost…predatory. Like he was baying for her blood. Akkarin was impressed that Sonea didn't seem perturbed, though she must have been able to see the look out of the corner of her eye.

 _Watch your step, little one, for here there be monsters. Apparently._

He then watched, with more genuine interest, as Rothen and Sonea moved to say the official words. Akkarin studied both of their faces. Rothen looked down at his young charge with obvious pride and affection. It was clear he had grown to care for this girl as more than just an interesting find. Sonea looked at him with the same kind of regard, but there was also something else in her gaze- excitement. She was genuinely _excited_ to join the Guild. As he thought about it, it made sense. The children from the Houses were told from a young age that they may be allowed to join the Guild. They were tested at ten, and the decision made soon after. Five years passed, enough time for any excitement to wear off. For Sonea, the discovery of her magic had, to put it mildly, been a surprise. And now she wasn't frightened of being killed by the Guild or accidentally at her own hand, she was ready to be a magician in full. Akkarin found, as he thought about it, that he was almost jealous of her. Jealous of her youth, her innocent, her bright excitement. Nothing would bring those things back to him. They were buried deep. Deep with the remains of all the people he had to kill to survive.

The rest of the ceremony passed with little excitement. Then, as soon as quickly as the hush had fallen over the hall, the chatter began again. People began to rise from their seats and begin to mill about, talking to acquaintances and reuniting with distant relatives. Akkarin saw Jerrick waiting for him with an expectant expression on his face at the bottom of the Higher Magicians' steps and stifled a groan. He realised Jerrick expected him to mingle with him.

 _And so it begins._

 **Welcome back, everyone, and welcome to The Novice! I have a basic plan to cover it in about twenty chapters, but we shall see how we go. As ever, if there is anything you would particularly like me to do or you have any requests, please send them to me, and I will do my very best to please. On a more personal note, I would like to thank every single one of you that send me such lovely words after my last chapter. This last week hasn't been great for me mental-health wise, but seeing people say these amazing things honestly helped. So, thank you, it genuinely means so much to me. Love as ever, Cece xox**


	17. Stability and Strength

Chapter Seventeen: Stability and Strength

The House of Paren had a motto; In Stability Lies Strength.

Of course, to the casual observer, that motto sounds like any other motto you might see delicately painted under a coat of arms. Pretentious, vague enough to not really mean anything, but at the same time detailed enough to say everything about the House's values.

What the House of Paren was telling the world was very simple- they liked things the way they were, thank you very much. Traditions keep us safe. Change is dangerous. Society works because everyone knows their place in the great game and the fixed rules they have to play by. Defy the rules, and it's like letting damp creep into your house. Or House, come to think of it. It may take a while, but slowly, yes, ever so slowly, the whole system will come crashing down, like an avalanche.

So when the Guild announced to the waiting world they were going to accept a candidate for the noviciate from outside of the Allied Lands' high society, quite literally let her live under their roof, for the first time in known memory, House Paren was one of the loudest voices in criticism. They thought they could see the slight movement of snow, high up on the mountain. That's how it always begins.

So enraged, so determined, was the Family of Winar, who had been the most powerful family within the House for over a century, that they wanted nothing to do with these events, that they asked that their young candidate be allowed to join the intake of novices that had already started. He is intelligent and fast-learning, they argued, he will soon catch up. The University Director point-blank refused. Novices start at the beginning or they don't start at all, he had said.

So the young candidate was told he was going to have to undertake the most prestigious education anyone could be given… with a child of the slums. None of them had quite believed it would happen, until they saw _her,_ standing in the Guildhall with the children of the most prestigious families in the Allied Lands, bold as brass. As Regin had stood there, hands clenched into fists, angered by her sheer presence there, a thought entered his mind: _If anyone could do it, if they were opening up the Guild to beggars and thieves, was it really such an honour to be allowed to attend?_ How dare they? How dare she? He had been so excited to start at the university, until six months ago, when one little girl cut its value into shreds for him.

Considering all this, and taking into account of the prejudices and stereotypes he had been exposed to his entire life, can you really blame Regin of Weiner for being as hostile as he was? Can you really hold him responsible for the events we are about to see happen- the awful, cruel events? Well, of course you can, because each and every one of us is ultimately responsible for our actions, no matter what we have been taught or told. Pointing to someone else because they told you what you did was acceptable is the idiot's way out. But the question is, the question we must ask the deepest parts of ourselves, is would we have acted any differently? Yes, we blame Regin, but can we _judge_ him, for something we ourselves may well have done?

Just like Fergun, all those months ago, Regin now had a choice, as he too walked through the Magicians' Guild, the day following the Acceptance Ceremony. Though this time, his feet were taking him through the University. He could choose to lay his armour down. He could choose to go into the classroom with an open mind, an open heart even, and judge this girl based on her personal merits and vices alone. He could use the moment to judge whether the beliefs and stereotypes he had been told since his days in the crib were correct. _This_ was Regin's moment.

But alas, like Fergun, Regin didn't use his moment wisely. To be fair on him, such a choice would be hard pressed for an adult with his background to make, let alone a boy. Regin wasn't old enough to understand why he was wrong. Not yet, anyway.

This was because the Family of Weiner had its own, more personal, motto. It wasn't really spoken about outside of their own grand halls, but the boys of the family were taught it from a young age: Twist Everything To Your Advantage.

And Regin planned on doing just that. Did he want some girl from the streets in his classroom, violating the place like a bad odour? Absolutely not. But could he find some fun, and a way of gaining the respect and loyalty of his _appropriate_ peers, from her? Absolutely yes. And by doing so, maybe he could bring back some of the stability and strength that the Guild had lost through this shameful series of events. He would, in fact, be doing the Guild a great service. They would thank him, some day.

He reached the door of the classroom he had been told to present himself at, and paused. He gave himself a moment to compose himself, knowing that first impressions are the most important. He then grasped the handle and pushed the door open, walking in with a confident smile on his lips.

It was time to have some fun.

 **Hey there everyone! Hope you are all well. I had a really interesting question in a review for the last chapter about Akkarin's feelings towards Sonea. I'm quite a traditionalist in this regard- I honestly don't think he feels anything for her until the night they are arrested- I think he likes her by that point, is impressed by her, but that night was kind of a "lightbulb" moment. That's just my personal opinion, though, totally up for debate. Also, your English is amazing, Araedia! I promise to be back soon! Love, Cece xox**


	18. Into The City

Chapter Eighteen: Into The City

The sun was finally sinking beneath the horizon by the time Akkarin finally made it to the place he had been told the meeting would be held. He sighed with relief- though he was not unfit, it had been a long walk from the Guild to the other side of the city. Not being able to take advantages of the Guild's abundance of carriage was tiresome, literally, but necessary. He put out the faint globe light he had made and moved to the shadows of the alley, and checked the street ahead of him was empty before crossing it to a building of typical build for the North Quarter. From the eclectic collection of items in the window, with prices neatly written on small squares of paper next to each one, it appeared to be a pawn shop- though not a particularly good one.

 _What exactly_ is _this place?_

As instructed, Akkarin rapped three times on the door, paused, then rapped another two times. Immediately the material covering the glass in the door was pushed aside, and an eye appeared. It gave Akkarin only the briefest of glances before the material returned. The sound of locks clicking open, then the door swung open with a faint creak.

"Thank you," Akkarin murmured to the short, rather stout man that held the door open for him. The man grunted, then gestured for Akkarin to follow, a lamp swinging in his hand.

They moved through the darkened shop, which seemed surprisingly small for the size of the building. They moved behind the counter, and the man reached for a set of keys at his waist and opened a door. He raised him lamp before him, and stepped down. Akkarin stepped to the doorway and saw that it led to a set of steps.

Following the man down them into a dark cellar-like room, Akkarin fought the desire to form a globe light. Who knew who they meet down here? And besides, maybe the man in front of him didn't actually know who he was, was just told who to look out for.

On the far side of the room was yet another door. This time, the man knocked on it in a complex pattern before opening it. A gentle knock came from the other side, and the man knocked thrice in reply. The door was opened, and Akkarin's guide stood aside so he could enter the well-lit room beyond.

The room was full of boxes, the contents of which Akkarin could only guess. Perched on one of the boxes in the centre of the room was man Akkarin had come all this way to see.

Cery had pushed himself off the box and onto his feet as Akkarin had entered and pushed back his heavy hood.

"High Lord," he said, nodding slightly.

"Ceryni," Akkarin replied, returning the nod. He had decided seeing as they were now working together as (almost) equal partners in their dealings with the Ichani, it would be inappropriate to refer to him using his nickname.

"This is Dill, but he'll be leaving now," Cery said, nodding to a man in the corner of the room that Akkarin had come from- he must have been the one to have opened the door. He grunted, and left through the same door,

"And you've already met Gol, he's my right hand," Cery said, smiling wanly at Akkarin's guide. Gol had placed his lamp down on one of the boxes and now stood in front of the door, arms crossed. He snorted in response to Cery's smile, but made no attempt to leave. Akkarin assumed Cery trusted him, and that was good enough for him.

Cery leaned back on the box he had been sitting on and crossed his arms. "So, was there something specific you wanted to talk about?"

Akkarin shrugged. "Not particularly, I just wanted to see how you felt about how our...ah, project, went."

It was Cery's turn to shrug. "Fine, I think. As long as you were pleased?"

Akkarin let out a soft bark of laughter. "I'm not sure 'pleased' is the correct word."

Cery smiled wanly. "Perhaps not. Were you satisfied then?"

"I was. Putting the body in an acidic vat so it would decompose with no remains was ingenious."

Cery nodded at the praise. "Thanks. We won't be able to do that every time, it'll get too obvious. But I have plenty more ideas."

What a strange skill to have.

"I'm sure you'll get the opportunity to use them all. Was there anything you wanted to ask me?"

"Nothing 'cept when to expect the next one."

Akkarin eyed the young man carefully.

"We agreed this first time would just be a trial run. You aren't obligated in any way to carry on."

Cery looked almost amused. "Whilst I appreciate the concern, it's not necessary. I- that is, we," he nodded to Gol, "will be fine."

"What about the Thieves? Will they want to know what's going on?"

"I'm not that bigger fish. They're not that interested. Yet. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

Akkarin nodded slowly. "Very well. Then to answer your question, not for a few months. The people who are sending these men, they always take time to prepare. Obviously keep a look out, but I wouldn't expect anyone until at the least the turn of the season."

Cery nodded, standing upright. "We will be ready."

Akkarin smiled faintly. "I am sure you will." He offered his hand to the Thief-In-Making, and the young man shook it with a sturdy grip. "Until next time, then, Ceryni. From now on, I think we should only meet when absolutely necessary. That will stop the possibility of our partnership being discovered- by anyone. We should only communicate using the coded system we have worked out. Is that alright with you?"

"Perfectly. My men will send the signal when we think we've tagged the man."

"Good."

He turned to leave. Then he turned back, a question from before reappearing. "By the way," he said, readjusting his hood to cover his head, "what exactly is this place? A decoy shop?"

"Oh, no, it's real alright," Cery said. "We just have an understanding with the owner. He's working off a debt from profits from his shop. So we get a safe space to meet people and some money too. Not a bad set up, really."

Akkarin viewed Cery with new interest. He was impressed. "Again, ingenious, young thief." He turned away back in the direction from which he had come.

Gol opened the door they had come through for him. Just as he was passing through the doorway, Cery blurted, "do you know how Sonea is?"

Akkarin turned once again. From the look on Cery's face, it appeared that he had desperately wanted to ask this question from the beginning of this meeting.

"I can't give you details, but she was accepted as a novice into the university a few weeks' ago."

Cery nodded. "That's good, I thought she might chicken out."

Akkarin smiled softly. "From the little I know of your friend, I don't think that was ever on the cards."

Cery nodded again, slower this time. "That's true. She's made of iron, doesn't scare easy."

Akkarin considered that. "I think when all is said and done, that trait will have served her well."

The young man before him sighed. "I wish there was a way that I could visit her, I doubt she will have the time to visit us lot now. But I s'pose you lot won't allow the likes of me in, will you?" He looked away suddenly, as if embarrassed by his speech. Though it was Akkarin in reality who should be feeling embarrassed. And he did. Just because someone didn't have high birth didn't mean they shouldn't be allowed to visit their friends. That should be fairly obvious. The Guild was set up for the good of all. It should start acting like it was.

"There's no rule that says that someone not from the Houses is not allowed to visit the Guild," he said gently. Then he remembered something. He drummed his fingers on the doorframe. "Well, I suppose the Guild _does_ have rules about its members associating with the criminal classes. But as long as no one knows who you are, that won't be much of a problem for you."

Cery looked back at him, a look of genuine pleasure, and gratitude, in his eyes.

"I- I didn't know that. Thanks for telling me, I'll see what I can do."

Akkarin nodded at the thanks. "Considering everything you are doing for me, it's the least I can do. But I must go, I am expected back at the Guild. Fare well, Ceryni."

Cery made what seemed like a crude attempt at a bow. "Fare well, High Lord."

Akkarin stepped through the doorway and made his way back up into the shop. Pausing at the entrance, he moved the badly fashioned curtain from the glass to check the street was empty. Once the old man who was down the other end of the street was out of sight, he made a small globe light and made his way back into the evening, dark now that the sun had sunk.

As he walked back through the slums until he found the entrance to the passages that led straight back to his residence, he found himself thinking about what Cery had said.

 _She's made of iron._

Akkarin thought back to when he was Sonea and Cery's age. He had been a novice, had been far too arrogant and self-assured for his own good. And _he_ had thought himself brave. But this pair put his younger self to shame- they had dealt with and lived through things he would not see a fraction of until he was quite a bit older. And even then, such situations were of his own making. He had, quite literally, walked into a trap. Cery and Sonea had been born in the trap, and had done incredibly well to get themselves out of it unscathed- Sonea joining the Guild, Cery taking his place amongst the Thieves. He wished his young self had had half of their resourcefulness, maybe he would never have had to face the nightmares that now plagued him.

He almost chuckled to himself in the dark of the passageway.

 _I never thought I would be jealous of slum children._

 **Hey there everyone! I hope you've had a good week. Once again, I've loved hearing your feedback on my last chapter- I was really interested to hear some of you share my *slight* sympathy with Regin. I know he's a *coughs* in The Novice. Buuuut if you read the second trilogy, in the third book, he talks about why he did what he did, and it's super interesting. I based what I wrote based on his own explanation, which was a super cool thing to get to do. Anyway, the next chapter is already under way, so I shall see you there! Love, Cece xox**


	19. I've Been Waiting For You

Chapter Nineteen: I've Been Waiting For You.

Tayend of Tremmelin couldn't deny the fact that he was a little bit drunk. He didn't want to deny it, actually. Why should he? Everyone knew how much he hated Court. He _had_ to get a little bit drunk in order to survive even an hour of the most tedious company. But he had promised his family- his father, to be specific, that he would be seen there to represent their great family. _It's the one thing you can actually do for us,_ his father had said, through thinly veiled distaste. Tayend sighed at the memory, before draining his glass. It didn't even make him sad anymore, it was just his reality. He had somehow found, over years of practice, an uneasy peace with it. So what if his father hated him? In the long run, did it really make any difference?

But his father's command wasn't the real reason that he was here tonight- though it did help that, for once in his life, Tayend and his father's interests were aligned. Though his father would be apoplectic with horror if he found out Tayend's motives.

No, the reason Tayend was here was because wanted to see Dannyl again.

Or Ambassador Dannyl, Second Guild Ambassador to Elyne, as he should say.

When Tayend had first caught sight of the tall, elegant Guild magician, he had been so nervous he couldn't really think of anything to say. I mean, what was he supposed to say that _that_ face? So he had made the same pleasant small talk he made with every important person he was engaged to meet, and tried not to let on just how much this man impressed him. Immediately inviting him to the library was probably not his best idea, but it had just sort of…come out, like these things so often do.

And he hadn't stopped thinking about him since.

From court gossips, he had discretely found out more about Dannyl- he was in his late twenties, unmarried with an…interesting past. Well, the unmarried part was at least a good start.

When Tayend had heard that tonight was the night that the Guild's new little (well, not literally, obviously) Ambassador was going to be presented to the King, Tayend had decided that he really ought to be seen at Court more.

So here he was, standing alone in a quiet corner, trying to avoid being seen by anyone who knew him, trying not to make it too obvious that he had managed to get rather drunk in nervous anticipation.

And then, Tayend saw him.

If Tayend had thought Dannyl striking when he had just disembarked from a long journey at sea, most likely tired, dishevelled and in great need of a hot bath and proper food, then _this_ Dannyl, refreshed and in an environment much more at home with him, was incredibly handsome. No; he wasn't just handsome. Tayend thought he was beautiful.

Then he saw who Dannyl was with, and winced. Dem Aggerralin. A man known for his lack of tact, talking to someone whose country was known for their lack of tempers. Dannyl was looking seriously at the man, but not with an expression that said "I'm about to hit you". Always a good sign, but probably a conversation he would like rescuing from. Tayend was happy to oblige.

He strolled over with what he hoped was a casual gait, and a straight line. He hadn't realised how long it had been since he had drunk this much- he was getting soft. Or old. Or both. But it almost felt like a magnetic force was pulling him towards Dannyl. Like how stars align in the sky.

As he approached the pair, they looked at him. He lowered himself into what he hoped was an acceptable bow, then straightened. "Ambassador Dannyl, Dem Agerralin," he said brightly. He turned to the shorter man, trying to think of the most efficient way of getting rid of him. "How are you, Dem?"

"Well, and you? We haven't seen you at court for a while, young Tremmelin." The Dem spoke in his usual, patronising tones. The man had never liked Tayend since he had turned down the Dem's proposition to…well, you know, a few years prior. Tayend was not a man who simply wanted physical pleasures in life. To be with someone, in every sense of the word, should be about the personal, the spiritual, as well as the physical, if not more so. Like how souls meet on a dark night. Like how stars align in the sky.

"Regrettably, my duties at the Great Library keep me away." Tayend didn't try and cover the obvious lie. Elyne court was different to other courts. People didn't try to lie their way through their dealings with other nobles. They told the truth. Because the truth will, at least eventually, set you free. And even if you don't believe that, it will always, at least eventually, come out. Better have your enemies in front of you where you can see them and what they know, rather than creeping up behind you with hidden knowledge they can stab you in the back with. "I'm afraid I must steal Ambassador Dannyl from you, Dem. There is a matter I need to discuss with him." _Not a lie, there is a matter to discuss- you._

Dem Agerralin seemed to bristle ever-so-slightly as he looked away from Tayend to Dannyl. Tayend was pleased to see the Ambassador held his gaze levelly. "I see," the Dem said eventually. "Then I must bid you goodbye, Ambassador." He made a swift bow, then stalked away. Tayend couldn't help but smile- Agerralin had always been a sore loser. Like the day he had slunk out of the library , tail between this legs. Clearly no one had ever said "thank you, but no" before.

But now for the reason he had come over here. He turned to look at Dannyl, who was still frowning at Dem Agerralin's back. He wasn't quite sure how to put what he needed to say- remember those fiery Kyralian tempers? "There's something you ought to know about Dem Agerralin," he settled on.

"Yes, I think he made it clear what that is." Tayend was relieved to hear humour rather than anger in Dannyl's tone. He almost giggled at the cultured Kyralian accent- why was it that everything that Kyralians said always sounded so serious? Even when they weren't trying to be? But he didn't want to offend the man.

"Ah," he said. Perhaps it was alright to be a little more forward. "And did he bring up the matter of rumours concerning yourself?" Dannyl turned from watching Agerralin to stare at Tayend. There was obvious concern and not a little surprise in his expression. He nodded to himself. "I thought he would." Because if there is anything that Agerralin likes to do more than stir, Tayend had no idea what it was.

"Is _everybody_ discussing this?"

Tayend felt a pang of sympathy for the magician. Perhaps Dannyl wasn't feeling quite so at home as Tayend had previously thought.

"No," he said, trying to sound comforting, "only a few people in certain circles."

 _Of which I am a member, but you don't need to know that. Yet._

Dannyl was still frowning, but was looking more thoughtful than shocked now. "It's been years since those accusations were made. I'm surprised they reached the Elyne Court at all."

That statement surprised Tayend. He thought Dannyl would be more…aware. "You shouldn't be," he began. "The idea that a Kyralian magician might be a lad- that is the polit term here for men like Agerralin- is amusing. But don't worry. It does sound like the usual name calling between boys." He decided to take a chance again. "If I may say so, you're surprisingly calm, for a Kyralian. I was half afraid you'd blast poor old Agerralin to ashes."

Dannyl's smile returned at that. "I wouldn't remain Guild Ambassador for long if I did."

 _No, that's not the reason._

"No, but you don't even seem angry."

Dannyl looked away, seeming to ponder his answer before speaking. "When you've spent half your life denying such rumours, you come to sympathise with the kind of person you're claimed to be. To have inclinations that are unacceptable, and to have to either deny to undertake elaborate measures to hide them," Dannyl seemed to shudder slightly, "would be a terrible way to live."

Tayend felt a wave of affection for the man. It was endearing that his first thoughts were for those who were being persecuted for being themselves, rather than for himself.

"That is how it is in Kyralia," he replied a note of pride in his voice, "but not here. The Elyne court is both awful in its decadence, and wonderful for its freedom. We expect everyone to have a few interesting or eccentric habits. We love gossip, yet we don't place too much faith in rumours. In fact, we have a saying here: "There's always a bit of truth in every rumour; the trouble is finding out which bit." He saw Dannyl begin to frown again, so decided to change the topic to a more pleasant one. "So, when are you coming to the library?"

Dannyl blinked at the sudden change in conversation. "Soon," he said after a beat.

"Then I look forward to seeing you there," Tayend said, smiling. He decided that, considering that the Court was awash with rumours about Dannyl, he ought not to keep Dannyl too long. Or the gossips really would have something to talk about. No, proper conversation would have to wait until the privacy of the library, if Dannyl ever came. He bowed again, still feeling light headed from the alcohol. "But for now, I have another matter to attend to. Until then, Ambassador Dannyl."

Dannyl inclined his head. "Until then," he replied.

Tayend turned and strode away into the main court room. He felt a smile tug at his lips. He remembered Dannyl's words. _You come to sympathise with the kind of person you're claimed to be._ Clearly Dannyl didn't think he was such a person. But Tayend had a very strong feeling that that was because he had been forced to deny it, over and over and over. And when a person is forced to life like that, day in and day out for years on end, they start to believe what they are saying too. And what is that Tayend had himself said? _There's a bit of truth in every rumour…_

Tayend had, at least, been a little freer in his life. Whilst his father's disapproval weighed heavily on his shoulders, he was able to be himself with pretty much everyone else- just like his disenchantment of court, he hadn't tried to hide his preferences. Again, why should he? That meant he had spent a lot of time with- well, men like him. Oh, not in that way, just as friends, comrades-in-arms, so to speak. And Dannyl, even if he had absolutely no idea he was doing it, was _a lot_ like those men. There was an…aura about him, a quality to him, something difficult to quantify but definitely there, if you knew what to look for.

He knew he couldn't do anything about it. He knew, if he wanted Dannyl as a friend, that he was going to have to tread very carefully. He knew that this was all probably a very bad idea. But one single thought kept ringing round his head, like lyrics to a song.

 _I've been waiting for you. I've been waiting for you_ so long _to come along and change everything. If you knew how lonely this life has been for me, you wouldn't have taken so long._

Above him, in the dark Elyne sky, stars were definitely aligning.

 **Hi everyone! I was a wee bit nervous about writing this one, I really wanted to get it right. Here's the thing- Trudi did an amazing thing putting in an LGBT+ couple into her books in a genre where they are constantly overlooked. However, she should have done more with them- it does feel she put them in, and then was a bit too nervous to do anything with it. So this is my attempt to add a little more to T &D's story, which I think is unbelievably sweet. Let me know your thoughts! Love, Cece xox**


	20. Something's Not Right Here

Chapter Twenty: Something's Not Right Here

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes or so, Master, unless you wanted me to hold it until the Administrator arrives? I know that he is not always…punctual, shall we say?"

Takan was standing in the guestroom doorway, a silver platter under one arm. Akkarin chuckled, closing the book in his hands.

"No, ten minutes will be fine- Lorlen is on his way. Thank you, Takan," Akkarin replied. In the corner of his eye, he saw Takan make his customary low bow, then head back to the kitchen.

Akkarin rose from his customary chair and went to his drinks cabinet. With an ease that proved he had done this countless times before, he brought down two wine glasses and a bottle of his favourite. He felt he deserved it. It had been something of trying week, what with Vinara's demands for more Healing buildings, Sachakans to kill in the city, and no best friend to moan with. Well, until tonight. Filling the glasses, he managed to make it to his front door in time to hold out one glass to Lorlen as he stepped inside. His expression was one of someone who has been startled, possibly more so than was necessary given what was before him, an old friend with a glass of wine, but the expression quickly changed to a smile.

"Thank you," he said, taking the glass with obvious eagerness.

Akkarin returned his attention to his own glass. He was about to take his sip, when he noticed Lorlen's expression. The smile and disappeared, and an altogether less positive expression now clouded his features. He looked worried, and…older. Older than he should.

"You look tired," Akkarin said softly. He thought back to when he and Lorlen had last sat together- back when they had talked about Lorlen's choice of Dannyl as a Guild Ambassador. Had Lorlen looked like this then?

"I'm not surprised," Lorlen replied, shaking his head slowly. He looked towards his usual chair.

"Takan says dinner will be ready in ten minutes, come upstairs," Akkarin said before Lorlen could seat himself. Akkarin went to the door to the stairs, opened it and ushered Lorlen through. As he watched his friend trudge up the stairs, his concern for him grew. He waited until they were seated, and Takan out of earshot, before addressing the topic.

"So, what is bothering you, Lorlen?"

Lorlen's hand passed over his face and he sighed wearily. "I had to make an unpleasant decision this week."

Akkarin was more intrigued than anything else now. "Oh? Is Davin trying to purchase more materials for his weather experiments?"

"No- well, that too." Lorlen appeared to hesitate. "I had to move Sonea to the Novices' Quarters. It seemed cruel when she's obviously not getting along well with her classmates."

 _Is that all?!_

"She was fortunate to spend as long with Rothen as she did," he replied, reaching for his glass of wine. "Someone was bound to protest eventually. I'm surprised the issue wasn't raised earlier."

Lorlen had told Akkarin about the very tall tales about Rothen and Sonea that were circulating around the Night Room. He had rejected them as soon as he had heard them. What utter nonsense. Rothen clearly cared for the girl, in the way a father cares for his daughter- and absolutely nothing more. A basic understanding of human nature would tell you that. But Lorlen had raised a fair point- the rumours should never have been allowed to start.

"It is done," Lorlen was saying, "I can only try to keep an eye on the situation between her and her classmates, and urge Lord Garrel to curb Regin's antics."

Akkarin considered his friend. Why did Lorlen, Administrator of the Guild and therefore already up to his eyes in work, think it was his job to look out for the girl?

"You can try, but even if you asked Garrel to follow his novice about, it wouldn't stop the boy doing whatever he's doing," he said slowly, trying to impress on Lorlen the importance of staying out of it. "She will have to learn to fend for herself if she's to gain the other novice's respect."

As Takan came in and started serving the food, he pondered his words. He knew he sounded harsh, but Akkarin knew that he spoke the truth, from personal experience. The easiest way to protect someone might be to shelter them from the things that would hurt them, but the best way to protect them is to teach them how to shelter themselves. Teach a man to fish, and all that.

Tasting the soup Takan had given him, perfectly done as always, Akkarin realised something. A pattern had emerged.

"You always mention Sonea when you come here, it's not like you to show an interest in a particular novice."

Lorlen looked slightly abashed. He seemed to consider his words as he swallowed. Akkarin was curious to see a slight flush in his friend's cheeks. "I'm …curious to how well she fits in- to see how much her background hampers her progress. It is in all our interests to see she adapts to our ways, and fulfils her potential, so I take note of her progress from time to time."

 _Again, isn't that Jerrick's job?_ But then again, perhaps Lorlen did have a more, longitudinal reason for his interest that did concern him.

"Thinking of recruiting more from the lower classes perhaps?

Lorlen's nose wrinkled. "No. Are you?"

Akkarin was surprised by his friend's immediate dismissal of the idea. It was unlike Lorlen to show anything but respect for all people, even those of lower station than himself. It irked Akkarin to think that his friend may look down on him considering a particular period of his life. He could only hope he was reading to much into his friend's behaviour. After all, he saw his friend so rarely privately these days he did find himself drinking in his presence, like a good vintage wine, savouring it whilst it was there.

"Sometimes," he found himself replying. "There must be a lot of potential we miss by ignoring so much of the population. Sonea is proof of that."

He was surprised by Lorlen's soft laugh. "Not even _you_ could persuade the Guild to try it."

 _Oh, don't tempt me, old friend._ Akkarin had been the kind of child who, when told not to climb the tree right at the very back of his parents' orchard, had gone straight to it, pulled his way to the very top branch and dropped down again without a single a scratch and a "I told you so" look in his eye. The man wasn't that different to the boy, except now it was the Guild and not his parents, and politics instead of trees. But then he remembered all the other responsibilities he had, and the thought of trying to get the Guild to change its conservative views lost all its flavour.

He smiled as he saw Lorlen sigh softly as Takan placed the food before them. Akkarin quietly thanked the servant, then began serving himself. He knew Lorlen didn't get enough time to himself, not even time enough to eat properly, so Akkarin saw it as a part of his duty to make sure he ate well at least once in a while. Akkarin's predecessor had left precious little useful advice to him when he was risen to the post, but he did leave one note that Akkarin stuck religiously to: _whilst it is the Administrator's job to look after the Guild, it is the High Lord's job to look after the Administrator. Even if said Administrator didn't realise it._

"What news do you have?" Lorlen asked, picking up his cutlery.

"Oh, nothing much to be honest," Akkarin began. "House Veril is starting to get irritable over the plans to build the new wharf. They say it shows the King's investment in international trade is stronger than his loyalty to Kyralian business, but I don't know about that. Merin's cousin is expecting, again. Goodness me, that family can breed." He paused, remembering something that maybe of more interest to him. "I've heard good reports of our new Ambassador in Elyne. It seems that more than a few young unmarried women have been presented to him, and he has been politely disinterested in all of them."

This seemed to amuse Lorlen. "I'm sure he's enjoying himself."

There was silence briefly in the room then, only disturbed by the gentle clinking of cutlery. For some reason, it didn't feel as normal, as natural, as silence between them usually did.

"I envy him," Lorlen said suddenly. "Unlike you, I never had the opportunity to travel, and I don't know if I will ever get the time now. I don't suppose you kept a diary? I know you used to when we were novices?"

Akkarin looked up to regard his friend.

It was then, in that very moment, he realised looking back, that a...shift started. It was just a nudge, barely enough to get his attention, but it was there. _Over here,_ it said, waving a little hand frantically, _what's going on here? Something's not right here_. And it would grow over the coming weeks, the nudge would become a push, the push would become a slap to the face. Whispers turned to talking, talking turned to screams. A shift that was like dancing on the blade of a knife. Just one misstep, just one little slip, and their friendship, build on years of love and trust, would topple like a house of cards to the cold, hard ground.

Akkarin answered Lorlen's question without much thought, something slightly amusing to hide his sudden discomfort.

"I remember a certain novice who used to try to read mu diary at every opportunity."

"Not any more," Lorlen said, in an almost defensive tone. "I'm just looking for a travel story to read late at night."

 _You haven't asked me about my travels since our first meeting after I returned, six years ago. Why the sudden interest?_

But, as always, Akkarin was prepared. With a gentle shaking of his head, he gave his well rehearsed lines, like an actor on stage in a great melodrama. But instead of an actor acting out pretence as reality, Akkarin had to make his reality a pretence. And had been, for years.

"I can't help you. My journal and all the notes I made were destroyed during the last part of my journey. I have often wished I made a copy, and sometimes I have a fancy to return and collect all the information again. Like you, I have responsibilities that keep me in Kyralia. Perhaps when I'm an old man I'll slip away again."

 _I would rather teach first years every year for the rest of my life than go back to that savage place._

"Then I'll have to look elsewhere for travel stories," Lorlen replied. Knowing Lorlen would expect him to have some recommendations, Akkarin listed a few. But for the first time in their long friendship, he desperately wanted Lorlen to leave. He needed to be alone.

When Lorlen finally excused himself, saying he had paperwork to be doing, Akkarin simply sat there, an automatic reply dropping from his lips. He continued to sit there long after the Administrator left, a long finger rubbing the brim of his empty wineglass, creating a high whining note. He didn't notice Takan clearing away or the room dimming as the light from the setting sun failed. One question, one single question, echoed round his mind, loud and piercing.

 _What does Lorlen know?_

 **Hi again, my lovelies! Hope you've all had a wonderful week. Just some advance warning- I am away from home for a couple of nights next week, which means I won't be able to write. I will hopefully get a chapter done by the end of the week, but no promises! As ever, thank you for your messages and reviews- it is so lovely to hear from fellow Canavan lovers. Love to you all, Cece xox**


	21. The Hardest Part of Love

Chapter Twenty-One: The Hardest Part Of Love

"I've already explained this a hundred times, I'm here to see Sonea!" Cery was starting to lose his patience, and wished he had got into the Guild grounds the same way that he and Sonea had the night they spied on the Guild. And the night he was abducted by Fergun, but he tried not to think about that too much. But he didn't want to get Sonea into any trouble, so he had done what any other visitor to the Guild would do- show up at their front gates.

Not that he had been treated like any other visitor to the Guild would have been. At first the guard at the gates had absolutely refused to grant him entry- then when he explained he was here to see one of the novices, he had begrudgingly gone and asked his captain for his opinion.

Half an hour later he was standing in front of a sour faced magician in purple robes, who was eyeing him with dubious suspicion from behind a large desk.

"And how do I know she either knows you or wants to see you?" he asked, his tone as sour as his expression.

"Look, if you take me to her, and she doesn't recognise me or want to see me, I'll leave without a fuss. If she does, I just want to talk to her for a few minutes, that's all, then I'll be on my way. Deal?"

The magician drummed his fingers on the desk, then sighed deeply.

"Fine. Only for a few minutes, mind," he said rising from his chair. "Our novices are all very busy with their studies, including Sonea."

Cery nodded. "I understand."

"The best place to look for her will be the novices' quarters. I'll take you there now."

Opening the door, the magician gestured for Cery to go before him. He did so, then waited as the magician locked his office door with magic. His office was in the same building as the Novices' Quarters, so it didn't take long for them to make their way into a throng of novices returning from class. Indeed, the novices seemed to be in a very excitable mood, laughing loudly and chattering excitedly to each other. They seemed to be interested in something down the corridor of bedrooms. Cery wondered whether this was normal behaviour for them. Looking at his guide, he noticed the magicians' frown and assumed it was not.

As the magician approached what appeared to be the eye of the storm, one of the novices noticed him. He seemed to make some kind of gesture to the others, and ducked out of sight. The other novices, unable to escape the magician's gaze, bowed to him quickly and trotted away.

One didn't, though. She was facing a way from them, looking at one of the bedroom doors. Cery's heart skipped when he saw her- like it always did.

"Hai! Sonea!" As Cery's shout, Sonea turned and gaped at him in surprise. Then her expression changed to one of delight.

"Cery," she breathed, in a tone that made it seem she didn't quite believe what she was seeing.

Cery grinned back, then his attention was caught by what Sonea had been looking at. The door had words written on it. Cery's reading was not the best, he was still taking lessons from Faren's pet scholar, but he knew enough to read the short message that was scrawled on the wood.

 _Get back to your brothel, slum whore!_

Cery stared at them in horror. By the eye, what had been going on? Was this normal?! He watched as the magician, Lord Ahrind he thought he had heard one of the novices call him, cut of the protests of a group of novices and bark at them to to get the words rubbed off the door.

"But my Lord-"

"It wasn't us! It was that R-"

"I don't care who did it. _You_ will clean it off. _Now!_ "

Cery and Sonea simply looked at each other whilst this exchange took place. "They're giving you a hard time, aren't they?" Cery asked eventually.

"They're just children," Sonea said breezily, clearly trying to make it seem like it wasn't getting to her. But Cery had known her since they were four years old, running around the slums thick as thieves. He knew when she was upset. He knew when something was getting to her- and this was. "I-" But Sonea was cut off by the magician.

"Sonea, you have a visitor, as you can no doubt see for yourself." He said in a clipped voice. "You may speak to him in the corridor or outside. _Not_ in your room."

"Yes, my Lord," Sonea responded quickly, and Cery almost snorted. He never thought he was see the day when his Sonea would call someone "my Lord".

The magician stalked away, and Sonea seemed to relax a little. Looking over his shoulder, she seemed to be evaluating her options. "Let's go outside," she said eventually. "Wait here, I'll just get something." Opening the door with the message written on it, Sonea disappeared inside, but quickly returned and locked the door as the magician had his own.

She led them outside to the well cultivated gardens, and found an empty bench for them to sit on. As he sat beside her, he felt a strange sensation drag over him, then a warmth settled over him, like a heavy blanket. He smiled at her, proud that one of his closest friends was capable of such things.

"You've picked up a few useful tricks."

She smiled slyly. "Just a few."

He considered the little garden they were sitting in, which was part of a much larger pattern of hedges and flower beds. He wondered, if you were able to look at it from above, whether it made a recognisable pattern? Not that he'd ever have the chance to get up high in this place..."Remember when we were in the garden last? Creeping through those trees?" he nodded to the woods, already looking dark and treacherous in the evening light. "That's nearly a year ago now." Nearly a year- and how much had happened? Sonea was a novice. He was…well, he wasn't quite sure what he was right now, but he certainly knew where he was headed.

Sonea chuckled softly. "How could I forget?"

They sat together in silence for a short time. Cery new he only had a very limited time with her, but right now he just wanted to enjoy being _with_ her. Getting to sit with her like this was a privilege he didn't often get to experience now. And he knew, as time went on, and his status increased, he would have to avoid her all the more. He didn't want to compromise her place in the Guild by her fraternising with criminals. After all, hadn't the High Lord said there were laws about that in the Guild? But he quickly pushed that thought away- he didn't want to think about Akkarin right now. He was focusing on the good, light things in his life right now. Like Sonea.

But it was clear that she wasn't in the best of places right now, if the scene that he had witnessed was anything to go by. He thought back to exactly what he had seen.

"That boy is the leader, isn't he? The one that hid when he saw that magician- Lord Ahrind, isn't it?"

Sonea nodded, but stiffly. Looking at her closely in the fading light, Cery noticed a slight flush in her cheeks. She was embarrassed. He was a little sad about that- he had hoped that they had the kind of relationship where they could tell each other everything, with no fear of judgement. Perhaps if he showed her he was happy to talk about it, wanted to know what had been happening to her.

"What's his name?"

"Regin."

"He been bothering you much?"

She let out a deep breath. Her whole body seemed to relax- now she was with a friend, someone who had her back and would never judge her, she seemed to settle. He was pleased about that. "All the time," she said. She began a litany, beginning at her Acceptance Ceremony to the first day of classes, from childish pranks to more serious attacks. It was emotionally draining just to listen to. By the end, Cery was so boiling with rage that he was no longer in need of Sonea's shield. He couldn't hold in a curse, which made Sonea smile slightly.

"That boy needs a good lesson if you ask me." A thought occurred to him. "Would you like me to teach him?"

As they talked about Regin and his band of followers, and Sonea showed how little Cery could do to help, he grew increasingly frustrated. What was the point of calling yourself someone's friend and not being able to do anything for them?

"I can't do anything to stop him, can I?" he asked softly.

He was surprised by her soft chuckle. "No," she replied. "But it is fun thinking about dunking Regin in the sea or dropping a house on him."

He couldn't help but smile then, feeling his lips being pulled up to match her own. "Sure is."

"And I'm glad you dropped by. I haven't since you since before I started at the University." He felt a bang of appreciation for her with that comment. The long trek here, and the valiant battle he had had to put up to be allowed in to see her- had been worth it just to hear her say that.

They spoke for a while longer, Cery drinking in every moment he had with her- every expression on her face, every word she uttered, in her new, more gently spoken, accent.

"Sonea!" A familiar voice eventually called. The magician, Lord Ahrind's. Sonea stood, somewhat reluctantly it seemed to Cery.

"I'd better go," she said resignedly.

Cery shook his head. Not all the things Sonea had learned to do were good, in his opinion. "It's strange hearing you call them "My Lord" and jumping at their orders."

She gave him his favourite "are you serious" look. "Like you didn't with Faren. At least I know that in five years I'll be bossing everyone else around."

This could be Cery's moment. He could tell her- he could tell her that he was _already_ ordering people around. Was already making his ways up through the ranks of the thieves. Was already doing work for her very own High Lord. He had already told her about the murders going on in the slums, why not fill in the blanks for her. But he knew she would heartedly disapprove. And she would worry. She already had too many things on her mind for her to be concerned about him. No, now was not the moment. Not yet.

"Go on, get back toy your studies. I'll try and drop by soon." She gave him a calculating look, then nodded.

"I'll hold you to that."

As she walked away, he felt the need to see her smile, just one more time.

"And tell that boy I'll break his arms if he doesn't leave you alone."

She turned, her brilliant smile once again set in place.

"I'll do it myself if he pushes me far enough. By mistake, of course."

What a Sonea-like thing to say. Defiant, resilient, brilliant. And Cery loved her more than ever in that moment.

Loving Sonea had always been hard. When they were younger, she hadn't realised how he had felt, so he had had to carry all his feelings alone. When he had told her about his feelings when he was imprisoned by Fergun, she hadn't said she returned those feelings. She didn't say she _didn't_ either, but now she was a novice in the Magicians' Guild, and completely out of his grasp. Now she was fighting for her right to be here every hour of the day, and he was powerless to help. All he could do is let her fight her own battles, and hope she could find the strength to win.

Watching her leave, letting her go back to people he knew would continue to hurt her, he realised something. The hardest part of love is in the letting go.

 **What ho, my lovely readers! As promised I have returned from my travels. As usual, thank you ever so much for the reviews, you are all too precious for words. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, another one is well on the way. Things are about to start getting a bit darker around here from now on, I'm afraid! Lots of love and happiness for you all, Cece xox**


	22. The Death of Innocence (Part II)

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Death of Innocence (Part II)

 _The door slammed open with what felt like the force of a charging gorin. Akkarin dropped the book that he had in his hands and inwardly cursed himself for his newly awakened weakness._

 _"You're back?!" A voice as familiar as Akkarin's own exclaimed, full of surprise and delight. There was enough familiarity in that voice to at least push some of Akkarin's tension away. He looked up from the box he was unpacking to look at his sudden visitor with an amused expression._

 _"What did that door ever do to you?"_

 _"Oh, hang the door, you're back!"_

 _Green robes engulfed him as Lorlen embraced him tightly and without hesitation. Akkarin tensed for a moment, unused to physical contact. Well, friendly positive contact at least. Then he remembered it was Lorlen, and hugged his friend in return. Lorlen stepped back, holding his friend's shoulders and looked him up and down with an evaluating gaze through wide eyes._

 _"Where have you been?! They told me you just strolled up to the gates, servant in tow wearing normal clothes!"_

You're worthless, Kyralian.

 _"That's about the size of it. It was...an interesting road back."_

Now now, where are your manners? Don't pretend you can't hear me.

" _Sorry, I'd offer you a drink, but-" Akkarin gestured to the piles of boxes around him._

 _"Oh don't worry about that, I just wanted to see you. After all. you've been gone six years."_

 _"I am aware."_

 _"I didn't hear from you for about five of them!"_

You brought all this upon yourself. You realise that, don't you?

 _"I am aware."_

 _"Well, what have you been doing? Did you write your book? Is it any good?" Lorlen threw himself into the only chair that wasn't covered in stuff and, seeming satisfied with its comfortableness, looked up at his friend expectantly._

 _Akkarin was ready for that question._

 _"Ah, bad news on that score. Yes, I did write it and yes, it was pretty good, but all my papers were lost. As I say, bad journey home."_

And you have brought my destruction on your entire people.

 _"Ah," Lorlen nodded slowly._

 _"Yes, my thoughts exactly."_

 _"Well, you could go back and regain them- retrace your steps, so to speak?"_

 _The simple thought of going back, leaving the safe confines of the Guild walls, made Akkarin's stomach flip over. He turned to retrieve the book he had dropped from the floor. He was angry that his hands were shaking._

I promise you, Kyralian, my destruction will be great.

 _"Oh, no- I've had my fill of travelling. I've decided I'm going to settle down."_

 _"You, settle down?!"_

 _"Absolutely. I was thinking about teaching, actually."_

 _Lorlen snorted._

" _That I am going to have to see. I'm imagining you surrounded by a group of rowdy first years, trying to teach them a basic shield. Your talents completely wasted."_

" _Well first years are out of the question- and I believe that to say teaching is a waste of talents is rather short-sighted."_

" _Of course, I wasn't being serious. Anyway, I've been sent with an invitation- the Peren twins- you know, Darlen and Korlin- they're holding drinks. Everyone's desperate to see you. Will you come?"_

 _Akkarin paused in his unpacking._

" _I don't know, Lorlen- I'm not exactly used to company."_

" _What do you mean? I would have thought all you've been doing is drinking at very fancy parties, surrounded by very fancy women."_

" _Well I wasn't. I told you, I was working."_

 _Akkarin thought he saw in the corner of his eye Lorlen flinch slightly at his biting tone, and instantly regretted his words._

" _I- I did a lot of private study, alone. In the mountains of Elyne. That's where I wrote the vast majority of my book. Not much company there, beyond sheep-herders who only speak a dialect of Elyne I have never studied." He smiled ruefully._

 _Lorlen seemed to relax, and he smiled again. "You'll be fine, Akkarin. After all, you were always the person everyone wanted to talk to. Enya will be there, you know?" Lorlen gave him a wink._

As I say, you brought everything upon yourself. Everything. Including her.

 _It took everything Akkarin had in him to return his attention to his boxes. He had put all his possessions into storage for the duration of his travels. And now, for the first time, he been given rooms in the Magicians' Quarters of his own. After so long in the most austere of circumstances, it seemed like a dream. He was terrified that, in the blink of an eye, all of this would disappear, and once again he would be in the wastes._

And I will live in your head for as long as you have the ability to think.

 _"So what have_ you _been doing?" Akkarin was proud that his voice didn't shake, but he still couldn't say the same for his hands. "I'm going to assume not teaching."_

 _"Oh, well I was until fairly recently. But then the Administrator asked for a new assistant- actually, he asked for me."_

 _Akkarin looked back at his friend, genuinely surprised. Lorlen shifted, blushing in his embarrassed discomfort._

 _"Well, that's a feather in your cap, I must say. Well done, old friend. Be careful, though, you're in the firing line to get the job yourself."_

 _"Well that would be...interesting. And is certainly not in my plans for the future. But speaking of the higher magicians, you must have heard about the High Lord?"_

 _"Ah, yes, I did."_

 _"I heard Vinara say a few days ago that she thinks he has weeks."_

 _"Poor old bastard."_

 _"I wonder who will replace him."_

 _"Some other poor old bastard."_

 _A pause. Akkarin felt Lorlen's gaze on him. He looked at his old friend._

 _"What?"_

 _"Oh, nothing." But there was an ever-so-slight smile on Lorlen's face._

 _"No, what?"_

 _"Well...you know that more than one person has mentioned your name to the Administrator- as a candidate, I mean?"_

" _You've got to be joking."_

" _Would I joke about a dying High Lord?"_

 _"Well that is ridiculous. I'm far too young and have been away far too long. What would I know about…High Lording?"_

" _But-"_

" _Besides, it's just speculation- the man's not even dead yet, and already everyone is jostling for position. Thinking how this could work in their favour. I think that's pretty horrific."_

 _Lorlen said nothing for a little while._

" _That's not how they see it," he replied slowly. "But you're right, it is all just speculation at this point." A pause. "Akkarin?"_

 _"Hmm?"_

 _Another pause._

 _"What happened out there?"_

 _Akkarin straightened and looked at his friend. Lorlen was looking at him, an all-knowing concern in his mahogany eyes. Akkarin tried to smile at him, tried to feign ignorance._

I'm right here, my pet Guild magician. I'm your closest friend now.

 _"Who said anything happened? Nothing did."_

" _You just…don't seem yourself."_

I'll never be far away.

" _It's-" he sighed. How could he ever explain- without being able to explain? "Look, being away, travelling- it changed me. I got used to a different kind of life, a different way of living. Without many people around. It may take me some time to adjust." He smiled apologetically._ _"So you might have to be patient with me for a while."_

 _"Hmm." Lorlen shook his head slowly. "Well it may have been a while, but I have known you since you were fifteen, Akkarin of Delvon. I know when you're angry, when you're worried and when you're lying. And you're lying right now. That's okay, though, I'm not angry or anything about that, I don't expect you to suddenly trust me again- but when, if, you want to talk about it, whatever "it" is, I'll be here."_

 _The gentle smile of affection almost broke Akkarin's reserve. But he had held it together for such a long time, he wasn't about to mess it up now._

 _"Thank you," he said stiffly. Lorlen shrugged, and rose from the chair._

 _"What are friends for? Now, are you coming to this drinks thing or what? The twins will be starting any moment!"_

 _Akkarin chuckled._

 _"Alright, but the moment Darlen starts doing his impression of Vinara, I'm leaving."_

 _Lorlen grinned, and headed for the door. "Fine."_

 _Akkarin sighed to himself. It was time to come back to the present. It was time to live in the moment. Time to respect the past and leave it alone. He wouldn't be this shell of his former self- a quivering, terrified mess- forever. The voices, the dreams would stop. Wouldn't they?_

 _He dropped the-_

-Letter onto the desk, the same one he had had since he was twenty-five. It was indeed time to come back to the present. There was much to ponder, many hard decisions to make, many plans to set into motion. Akkarin was no fool- he knew that one day that his secret would come into the sunlight, glaring and accusatory. But he really, honestly, hadn't expected it to happen like this.

He sat down heavily. He took several deep breaths, trying to control his racing heart.

It was everything he had feared it would be, and more. The letter was confirmation of that. As he picked it up again, he noticed his hands were shaking, something they hadn't done since those early days of his return to the Guild.

" _We thought you ought to know about some of the actions of your newest ambassador in Elyne, Dannyl. It appears he is researching 'ancient magical practices'- the same topic that brought you here all those years ago. He is even using the scholar that you made use of whilst you were at the Great Library- Tayend of Tremmelin, do you remember him? Anyway, I apologise if you sent Dannyl yourself and therefore you already know about all of this, but something just didn't feel right to me. He's clearly trying to do all this very secretly. I hope it doesn't cause you any trouble. If you need our help, you know where to find us."_

Observing Lorlen in his office, looking pensive and reading a letter that appeared to have the Elyne symbol on, everything had begun to shift into place, like pieces in a jigsaw. Then, in a few brief sentences from one of his contacts in Elyne, everything had changed. Somehow, through means that Akkarin still wasn't quite sure about, Lorlen had, at least begun, to work out his oldest friend's dark history. And could be, at this very moment, plotting to bring down that same old friend.

 _Curse him. Curse him and_ his _curiosity. His sense of entitlement, his intelligence, his need to fix everything._

After that meal he had had with Lorlen those short weeks ago, he had hoped that he had been paranoid and tired, overthinking Lorlen's words and questions. But this letter, and his own spying, proved to him he hadn't been. He could no longer put of what he hoped he would never have to do. It was time to have that conversation with Lorlen. Except it was going to go very differently to conversation Lorlen had offered to have with him six years ago.

What a shame.

Put his head in his hands, and could not longer hold back the tears that had been threatening to fall.

In a small part of Akkarin's mind, a part that he had refused to acknowledge was there, and had mercifully been pretty quiet for some years now, something stirred.

 _I'm still here, little magician. Did you miss me?_

 **Phew! That was quite something to right, I assure you. Now some of you may have read my bio, and know that I study (and work in) mental health. I based a lot of what I have written here not of my own experiences, but of the experiences of people who have experienced traumatic events. They say it's like they are constantly reliving it, never able to move on. It was unpleasant, but a very interesting experience, to write. As ever, thank you for your ongoing support. I *love* reading your thoughts, I really do. Lots of love, Cece xox**


	23. One Day

Chapter Twenty-Three: One Day

"So, can you use Doca leaves for rashes on children?"

"Yes, but you have to be careful about the amount- they can only have two leaves a day as opposed to four, that lowers the chance of toxicity."

"I see." Sonea looked up from her writing with her quirky smile. "You're proving very useful, you know?"

Dorrien had had absolutely, categorically no intention in falling in love with his father's new novice.

No, seriously, he didn't.

He would readily admit he was curious when his father told him he was taking on the tutorship of the girl from the slums. There was something in Rothen's tone, his slightly awestruck rhetoric, that gave his son reason to pause. And he had wondered about it, about her, as he had gone about his daily routine.

Then Dorrien had been summoned back to the Guild, as Vinara did with all of her healers working abroad from time to time. Although he was irritated, the feeling wasn't as strong as it had been on previous occasions. Because curiosity had got the better of him. He wanted to meet this girl who had appeared to have taken the Guild by storm and melted his father's heart. Dorrien wanted to meet Sonea.

Then, quite by accident, Dorrien had fallen for her. Absolutely. Categorically. No denying it.

She was...well, she was Sonea. There was no other way of describing her that would do her justice.

He smiled back at her. "Well, I am happy to please." He had been quite content for some time to simply help her study, resting his chin on his hand as he had the opportunity to show off the knowledge he had of healing, but he knew the time they had together was limited and he didn't want to waste it. "But you're proving rather boring right now. Can you please stop working on that? You've got weeks to learn it."

She gave him a haughty look with narrowed eyes. "Easy for you to say, you're out the other side," she said, gesturing at him imperiously with her pen.

"So will you be one day, and sooner than you think."

She gave him a sad smile. "I'm counting on it. I'll just finish this section, then I'll be done." She went back to her writing.

Cursing himself for reminding her of her misfortunes, he rubbed his hands together and rose. "Well when you have, shall we go out? I fancy some fresh air."

"Alright, as long as promise not to take me anywhere… weird," she said, not looking up from her page.

He laughed. "Fine, nothing weird. Just a walk- now come on!"

"You aren't half inpatient, are you?! There, done." She screwed the cap onto her pen, shut her notebook with a snap and stood up. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, lead on then."

He laughed again, and rose. As he went to open the door to Rothen's rooms, where they tended to spent time together, Sonea's rooms being both far too small and far too easily spied on, it unexpectedly opened. Rothen came through, with probably the same amount of surprise on his face that Dorrien's own held. He carried some books in one hand, which he put down on a table.

"Going out?" he asked.

"Yes- just for a walk." Dorrien replied. "Would you like to come with us, Father?"

Rothen looked carefully at his son, then behind him at Sonea, then back again.

"No, I have some marking to do, you two go on," he said slowly. "Sonea, will you come back for the books you wanted?"

"Yes, I will, thank you for getting them."

"Not at all, just don't stay out too late," Rothen smiled at her, then looked back at his son with a sterner glance. Dorrien knew that look all too well.

"Of course not," he replied. He took the door from his father and ushered Sonea out. As he went to pull the door shut, Rothen was still watching him. A knowing smile spread across his face. Dorrien rolled his eyes at him, and shut the door and walked briskly to catch up with Sonea.

They walked silently out of the Magicians' Quarters, then into the chilling, but invigorating, winter air. They naturally headed in the direction of the gardens.

Looking at her through the corner of his eye, Dorrien was pleased to see a gently contented expression on his companion's face. When they had first met, it was clear that Sonea had a lot on her mind. She seemed tense, worried, like she didn't want to be here. Whilst he wasn't sure how she felt about that now, there was definitely a more relaxed demeanour to her. Perhaps now was a good time to ask.

"Can I ask you a question?" Dorrien said quietly.

Sonea looked up at him curiously. "Yes," she replied.

"Do you regret joining the University?" She gave him a sharp look. "Oh, I don't mean to say you should, not at all. I mean, with everything that you've had to go through…do you regret it in any way?"

Sonea sighed gently, looking away. "Regret? No, I wouldn't say regret. Would I change things if I could?" she laughed hollowly. "You bet. In a heartbeat."

Dorrien considered that. "So, if you had the chance to get away from it, would you take it?"

Sonea snorted softly. "Why, offering to help me run away?"

"No, not exactly. But…if you wanted to get away from this place- the stuffiness of it, the awfulness of it, you'd more than welcome. One day, obviously."

Sonea seemed to consider that. Dorrien was pleased that she seemed to be taking the idea seriously.

"You think I'd be good enough?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt."

He rather enjoying seeing the flush bloom over her cheeks at that. "I'm not sure how I would suit life in the country," she said eventually.

"That's because you've never done it," Dorrien countered. "I didn't know what to expect when I first went, but now I have had the chance to get used to it, and the people the chance to get used to me, I wouldn't do anything else."

"True. The people, what are they like?"

"Oh, very pleasant on the whole. Less so when they've broken their toes when their cattle has stomped over them, or when they've had a bad harvest and are crippled by starvation. But wouldn't we all be like that in such circumstances? They have really taught me to appreciate what I have, which is far more than them, and be patient in waiting for what I don't, which is far less than them."

"Do they like where they live?"

"Well they complain about it all the time, but they wouldn't go anywhere else. When I described to them where I came from, they looked appalled."

"I could imagine that the idea of a city would be very strange to them. What traditions do they have?"

"Oh, the usual. They pray to their Gods for good weather and harvest like most people in such situations. Not that their Gods appear to be listening! It seems to me that chance is what really decides their fate. They have their old folk tales, which sound like the ones I heard as a child, just with different names for their characters. Oh, and they love dancing."

"Dancing?"

"Yes, dancing, and not like the stuffy line dances of the Kyralian court."

"Well, I wouldn't know about those any way."

Dorrien chuckled ruefully. "Trust me, you got lucky there. See, in Imardin, dancing is just seen as a proper way of courting- in the country, it's more than that. They have been passed down the generations to tell stories and to teach lessons. And there is an element of courting as well I suppose, but it's not nearly as… _obvious_ as at court."

"So, what do those kinds of dances look like, ones that teach lessons?"

"Oh, something like this," he caught her arm and pulled her into the centre of one of the inner gardens. It was surrounded by hedge, so they wouldn't be disturbed. She giggled at his sudden motion. "So, this one is to represent the changing of the seasons- it's about how man must work with the changes of weather, rather than expecting the weather to change for man. Now, the people of my village don't bow to start, but they touch hands as a sign of respect."

He held up his hand, palm first, fingers spread, towards her. She met it with her own, smaller and paler than his.

"Then we walk in a circle," he said, starting to move. "Then we turn like so," she smiled broadly at his slight skip to change direction, "and do it in the other direction."

He showed her how each of them then circled the other, then crossed their arms and held each other's hands and, pulling on the other's weight to stay upright, spun round. A couple of other patterns later, and they had made through the entire sequence.

"We do that all again, but we speed up each time," he said, starting the pattern again. "It's easier to do that with music playing, of course."

"Someone must have taught you all this," she said, starting to breathe heavily.

"Oh, it's pretty easy to pick up. I usually end up at the dances because someone always trips mainly because they've had too much to drink, or someone did it deliberately for dancing with their girl."

She laughed at that. "Sounds a lot like the dances they have in the slums."

"They hold dances in the slums?"

"Oh yes, it's just a way of keeping warm for us!"

They managed to get around the whole sequence three times before, whilst trying to keep up with him as he spun her round, she tripped over his foot. Laughing, he caught her to stop her from toppling over.

"I imagine that tends to happen quite a lot," she chuckled, her hand reaching for his arm to steady herself.

"Oh, there's one casualty per dance, without a doubt."

"But I thought that only happened when someone had drunk too much or there was a fight over a girl."

"Well neither has drunk anything."

"Then you must have been fending off competition to dance with me, off all people!"

"Perhaps I was."

Suddenly they were standing very close, Dorrien's fingers resting ever so slightly on Sonea's waist. He was still away of her hand of his arm. He was suddenly very aware of the warmth radiating from her. She was looking up at him, her large eyes and the gentle curve of her lips intoxicating. It took everything in him not reach down, take her face in his hands and kiss her.

No, he shouldn't. She was his father's novice. She needed to be here for the next five years. But, without realising it, his head dipped towards hers. Her other hand grasped his arm, and she seemed to bring her face up closer to his. His eyes closed as her forehead touched his. His heart beat wildly in his chest as his hand automatically went further round her waist, the other to the back of her neck, feeling the soft hairs there that had escaped her clip.

"Sonea," he whispered against her lips. He could hear her breathing slowly, deliberately. She trembled slightly in his gentle hold.

A splash of water on his hand, and he looked up to see a vast rain cloud above them.

"We probably ought to be getting back," he said softly into the top of her head. He gently kissed the hair under his lips, so gently she probably didn't notice.

"Yes, of course, we shouldn't keep Rothen waiting," she said, pulling away from him.

They walked back to the Magicians' Quarters quietly, but not particularly quickly, despite the rain. Dorrien hoped that Sonea was enjoying his simple presence, no words being needed to be said, as much as he was enjoying hers. Occasionally their hands would touch, and he enjoyed her smile as he would pull his fingers through hers.

Just before they reached his father's door, Sonea turned back to look at him seriously.

"I'll think about what you said, Dorrien, about getting away from this place one day. I really will," she said softly. She took his hand and squeezed it gently.

He smiled at her, and his heart swelled with pleasure. He squeezed her hand back. He opened the door for her, and followed her inside.

Not now, no, but one day.

 **I promised you more Sonea, and more Sonea you got! I enjoyed writing this, it was a bit of light relief for what I have planned next…you're gonna need torches, it's gonna get dark in here! Thank you for your continued support. I genuinely feel I have made friends over the course of writing this, it's so wonderful. See you soon, love Cece xox**


	24. Crack

Chapter Twenty-Four: Crack.

"Are you sure about this, master?"

"And why should I not be?"

Takan hesitated a moment before replying. "Because he is your best friend."

"If I am right, which I am almost certain I am, he has certainly not been acting like my best friend." Akkarin took the wine glass Takan was holding out to him on a silver tray and took a large sip.

"Some might argue that he has been acting like a responsible Administrator of the Magicians' Guild."

Akkarin looked up to glare at his servant. "Takan, it is bad enough that you are questioning my methods, but for your own sake, do not question what I consider to be a responsible member of the Guild. Or have you forgotten what I do for them, day in and day out?"

"Of course I haven't, but-"

"But nothing."

Takan took in a deep breathe. He set down the tray he was holding and, to Akkarin's surprise, sat down in the chair opposite him, the one most frequented by Lorlen. " _But_ \- imagine you were in Lorlen's shoes. Would you really be acting any differently?"

"I trust my friends."

"But you don't trust him. Don't deny it."

 _Touche._

Akkarin sighed and put down his wine glass. "I'm sorry Takan. I'm taking this out on you and you don't deserve that. You have been nothing but loyal and indispensable for all these years."

"You know you don't need to apologise for any of it. I chose to be here. You _let_ me be here." He paused for a moment. "All I ask is that you don't do anything you will regret."

Akkarin nodded. "I understand what you're trying to do, really. You're trying to save the one good thing I have left. And I appreciate it. But once the apple has withered, is it really worth keeping it on the tree?"

"Just be absolutely that it has withered, master, before you do irreparable damage." Takan gave him a steady look, then bowed low, and went back down to the kitchen.

Akkarin always sensed Lorlen's presence before he arrived. Today, that skill was going to be more useful than ever. It would give him the chance to clear his mind, calm his thoughts, and prepare him for what he must do.

Takan was right, as he always was. As a friend, what he was about to do was unforgivable, terrible

"Good evening, Akkarin," Lorlen smiled. It looked genuine.

 _Oh, what a good actor you have been, my friend._ Akkarin managed a small smile in reply.

"Good evening, Lorlen."

They looked at each other for a moment. Lorlen shifted slightly under Akkarin's gaze. Akkarin knew they were both keenly aware this is not how they normally went.

"Is that for me?" Lorlen said eventually, gesturing to a full wine glass sitting next to Akkarin's half-empty one on the table.

"Indeed- and do sit. There are things we should talk about."

"Oh, really? I was just going to say how quiet this last couple of weeks have been. Do correct me if I am wrong."

"I was under the impression you had something you wished to discuss with me."

"Well I don't know where you got that from." The silence that spread between then was so uncomfortable Akkarin couldn't stand it any longer. He drained his glass and stood and went to his drinks table and, with slightly shaking hands, reached for the decanter. He could still see Lorlen's face in reflection of the tray. He watched as Lorlen's frown suddenly disappeared.

"Oh, unless you were referring to Ambassador Mindo's latest outburst."

Akkarin hadn't heard about this- not directly at this. Lorlen must have taken his silence as a request to continue.

"He was surprised to hear that the High Lord does not entertain guests any more, since his father stayed here with your predecessor."

 _Ah, the perfect segue._

"The best change I ever made," Akkarin replied softly. He looked out at the Guild grounds, soft and quiet in the moonlit night. How sad that clouds had to come and destroy a perfect night like this.

"You do value your privacy," Lorlen said in a distracted manner, like he hadn't actually meant to say it out loud, and drank deeply from his wine glass. Akkarin wanted desperately and hit Lorlen for that remark. Instead he turned the nervous energy into a simple touch of his finger on the decanter.

 _He thinks he's being so clever, so innocuous. He thinks he's getting away with it. Well, he hasn't._

"I doubt the Ambassador would be comfortable with my…habits."

"Habits? I doubt he's care if you had a few late nights, or drank too much. You're just afraid he'll drink all your favourite wine."

"Well, that too," Akkarin said, playing along. "But we couldn't have just anyone discovering all my little secrets, could we?"

The silence then was potent. Akkarin saw Lorlen shuffle uncomfortably in his chair, his frown returning.

"No, I suppose not," his friend said eventually. "Anyway, what news from court?"

 _Oh no no no, you don't get away with it that easily._

Carefully, slowly, Akkarin lifted the knife he had asked Takan to leave in the guestroom. Even in the soft, safe light of the globelights dotted around the room, it still managed to look terrifying. Behind him, Akkarin heard Lorlen choke, then began to cough. That was reaction enough.

Gently, Akkarin did something he had sworn that he never would do, something he never thought he would have to do. He would never, for the rest of his living days, forgive himself for doing it. He sent his mind forth and into his friend's, like a wave washing up the sand.

Lorlen was thinking about a memory. A memory of that knife being used.

 _-was the underground room last time. He had Takan kneeling in front of him, arm exposed. He cut Takan's arm with the knife and…and_

"You're supposed to drink wine, my friend, not breathe it." Running his finger delicately along the polished metal, he turned back to the drinks table. "I've heard reports of Dannyl from friends in Elyne and Lonmar. They speak well of him."

Lorlen's face, reflected in the metal, was much more composed now. He knew this was a game now.

"That is good to hear," he said, in a voice Akkarin knew he used in meetings when he was trying to appear neutral.

 _No point putting on acts for someone who knows you through and through. Administrator._

"I've been following his progress with interest. He is an efficient researcher."

The smile Lorlen gave him then was obviously forced. "I wonder what has caught his attention," he said, a little more breezily than necessary.

 _You son of a-_

"Hasn't he been keeping you informed?"

"Me?"

Akkarin almost laughed at Lorlen's boldness. "Yes. You did, after all, ask him to investigate my past."

Then, a steely expression came over Lorlen's face. It was with that defensive expression, finally, that Akkarin was absolutely sure of his friend's guilt. "Is that what your friends say?" he said, daring to sound irritated.

 _You utter, utter bastard._

"Well, spies would be a more accurate term."

He lifted the knife again, and enjoyed watching Lorlen flinch, holding his wine glass far more tightly than necessary. "What _is_ that?" he asked

"Oh, just something I picked up during my travels," Akkarin said. He paused with the knife gently curving through the air. He then looked back at Lorlen, noting the wary expression. Why did he think his oldest friend would hurt him, if he hadn't reason to? "You recognise it I think."

Akkarin listened as Lorlen's mind pivoted around the numerous options it had. It finally picked one.

"It is strangely familiar- perhaps I have seen something like it before in a book, or a collection of antiques. It is such a vicious looking thing it would be sure to stick out in my memory."

"Do you know what it is used for?"

And there was that memory, running round Lorlen's mind again.

- _Akkarin cutting his servant's arm. Blood. Magic. Black magic._

"It's a knife, so something rather unpleasant, most likely."

 _Enough._

Akkarin put down the knife. He had learnt everything he needed to know from it. Now his second line of attack.

"You have been strangely cautious of me these last few months," he began, a speech he had prepared carefully. "You avoid mental communication, as if you are afraid I will detect something behind your thoughts. When my contacts told me of Dannyl's research, I was…intrigued." _Not really the word._ "Why did you ask him to investigate my past? Don't deny it, Lorlen. I have proof."

Lorlen's mouth had dropped open slightly. But, once again, he rallied admirably. "I…was curious, and after our conversation about your diary, I thought I might restore some of what you lost. You're not free to gather the information again, so…" Another carefully prepared speech. "It wouldn't be as satisfying as going yourself, of course, but I hoped it wouldn't be an unpleasant surprise."

The only sound in the room for a while was the faint drumming of Akkarin's fingers on the arm of his chair.

"I see," he said, in a voice so dark he barely recognised it. "I wish I could believe you, but I don't. You see, tonight I have done something to you that I have never done before, and never wanted to. I read your surface thoughts. They have revealed much. I know you are lying. I know you have seen things you never should have seen, and I must know how this came about." He took a deep breath, and rose. "Tell me, how long have you known I practice black magic?"

No going back now. Akkarin watched Lorlen's face drain of all colour.

"You practice _what?_ " he said, rising also.

If it had been anyone, literally anyone else, Akkarin would have grabbed them by the scruff of their neck and pinned them to the wall until they choked out an answer. But this was…Lorlen. At the end of all of this, it was still Lorlen and Akkarin.

"Don't be a fool, Lorlen," he tried not to hiss, closing the distance between them. "I have seen it in your thoughts. You know you cannot lie to me."

Akkarin watched as Lorlen thought around his options. He was thinking of a way of telling the truth, but not the whole truth. A part of him wanted to stop this, to stop torturing his friend, to discuss this like the companions they were- but he couldn't. The stakes were far too high.

"How long?" he said, voice now quiet and insistent.

"Over a year." There it was. The first chink in the armour.

"How?"

"I…came here one night. The door was open and I saw a light through the stairs, so I started to come down. When I saw what you were doing….it was a shock. I didn't know what to think."

Akkarin turned away to consider this. "What exactly did you see?"

"I saw you with Takan. He was kneeling before you. You…you cut him. Then- you put your hand on the cut and…did something."

That story wasn't right. The image that Lorlen had been thinking about was from _outside_ the residence, not inside. Why would Lorlen lie about that?

"Does anyone else know about this?"

"No." Lorlen's voice came so steadily that Akkarin almost believed him.

"You're lying to me, my friend."

"I'm not."

Suddenly, Akkarin realised that Lorlen wasn't ever going to come clean. Whatever, whoever, he was protecting was far more valuable to him than their friendship. He realised he was going to have to take the information he needed by force. Take it from his best friend.

 _You may think I am a monster Lorlen- well, you've made me into one._

With an effort, Akkarin willed himself to turn round and face the one person in the entire world that had ever come close to understanding him.

"Sorry, my old friend, but I must know."

With as gentle a force as was needed, he pushed Lorlen back into his chair and placed his hands on the Adminstrator's temples. And learnt everything.

Cery thought that the hardest part of love is in the letting go. He was, in his innocence, wrong.

The hardest part of love is taking that love and smashing it into countless pieces.

If someone has been listening carefully that night, they may have heard the sound of two hearts, cracking.

 **Phew, are you all still with me? Good! Now I need to let you know something- I have just moved back to university start my new term. That means I won't be able to update this as regularly as I have been over the summer. I** _ **promise**_ **not to give up on this, though, but maybe only expect one update a week instead of two. As ever, thank you for views and your reviews, both the complimentary and the constructive. Everything helps! Lots of love, Cece xox**


	25. To Break A Guardianship

Chapter Twenty-Five: To Break a Guardianship

Akkarin marched down the second floor of the Magicians' Quarters, wishing he could fast forward time to he didn't have to live through the next twenty minutes. He had chosen to wait until after the bell has struck, so as to avoid the crowds of novices and magicians on their way to classes- not that they ever got in his way, they never dared, but he could not handle the way they always looked at him this morning. Like he was some other worldly creature, something to be afeared. He already felt far, far too like that person this morning.

He made it to his destination without such unwanted glances, for which he was grateful. He stopped in front of the door and sighed. _Don't be a coward,_ he told himself. But it wasn't that he was afraid, he just really didn't want to be here, didn't want to be doing this. He really didn't want to break a guardianship, particularly one that was so important. Remember that, as our story goes on- Akkarin really, truly didn't want to do this. But such is life. We sometimes have to make choices we know are awful.

Not letting his mind dwell on such thoughts, he rapped on the door. When there was no answer for what Akkarin felt was a long pause, but was probably on a matter of seconds, he knocked again. The door immediately swung open.

"Lord Rothen." There was a slightly amusing pause as Rothen stared at his leader incredulously. "Are you going to let me in?"

Rothen seemed to come back to life. "Yes, of course, High Lord." He moved out of the doorway and let Akkarin pass over the threshold. Akkarin looked round the guestroom- it was just like any other magicians' rooms- except probably tidier. Rothen seemed like the kind of man who like order and a sound structure to his life. Which made this easier- the man was no maverick who would be difficult to control.

"Can I get you anything- some sumi, perhaps?" Rothen was saying.

"No. Your novice- where is she?"

"She's currently at her First Year Warrior Skills test, why?"

"Send her a message asking her to come here."

"But-"

"That wasn't a suggestion, Rothen."

A slight pause then. "As you wish, High Lord," the Alchemist said, his voice tense. He walked to the door to the corridor and opened it.

Akkarin turned to one of Rothen's guestroom windows as he heard the man calling to a messenger outside. Rothen had an exceptionally good view of the gardens from this vantage point. It must be one of the best in the building. Then, considering the angle of the windows, Akkarin considered, if he look out to the right, he could quite easily see his own residence from here. That was _definitely_ something to bear in mind.

"The messenger is under instruction to not delay, High Lord, Sonea will be here shortly. In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?"

"I shall wait for Sonea."

"Very well. Will you sit?"

Akkarin chose to ignore him. He moved to Rothen's bookshelves, glancing over the familiar titles, checking for any suspicious or unknown.

Lorlen, Rothen and Sonea. What strange bedfellows they made. It has taken him all night to come up with a strategy to silence all of them effectively. Even with the ring, it was possible Lorlen could still be a threat if, for example, he chose to take it off. Akkarin knew Lorlen, and he wasn't like Rothen. He could be a complete maverick when he wanted to be, especially when he thought he was doing good.

Thinking back, he went through the details in his mind.

" _The solution is fairly obvious, Master."_

" _Oh really, is it, my dear Sachakan?"_

" _Yes. You're just not thinking properly because you're upset."_

" _I'm not upset."_

" _As you say, Master."_

" _Alright, what is this solution?"_

" _Well, the way I see it, you have three people you need to keep silent. Each of them knows what the other two know."_

" _Yes."_

" _It's also important that they cannot talk to each other in case they decide to come up with some kind of plan."_

" _This has all occurred to me."_

" _So all you need to do is threaten the safety of one in order to guarantee silence from the other two."_

" _And how do I go about "threatening the safety of one". I can hardly follow them around all day. What do you want me to do, threaten Rothen on a Firstday and Lorlen on a Secondday?"_

" _Obviously not. Who is the weakest in the trio, who will be the most easy to threaten?"_

" _Well, the girl, clearly."_

" _So takeover her Guardianship."_

" _I'm sorry, did I hear you right?"_

" _Yes."_

" _You want me to take on some little girl's guardianship right now?"_

" _Yes."_

" _That's ridiculous. She would have…._ she would have to live here."

" _Under your nose, the entire time. You would know exactly what she did, all day every day, and the other two would know you could harm her at any time. Lorlen and Rothen would be at you mercy."_

" _What reason would I give for wanting her guardianship? She already has one, it'll look strange."_

" _She's powerful, yes?"_

" _Very."_

" _And intelligent, hard-working?"_

" _This is what I hear."_

" _Then say you think she has excellent potential, and you are eager to oversee her training."_

" _That would work- just. This might be enough to silence Rothen, he's clearly fond of the little thing, but I don't think it would stop Lorlen. The safety of the Guild and its future would be more important to him than the safety of one novice."_

" _Which is why giving him the ring was an inspired idea- even if he does get it in his head to move against you, which he will only do if he believes what he can do will justify Sonea's death, you will know about it."_

" _True. But what about when Sonea graduates, what then?"_

" _I haven't got that far in my thinking. But that's a few years off yet. Many things can change over the course of a few years. Perhaps you should let events unfold a little before making any definite plans."_

" _Alright. You make a good case, Takan. It's a brilliant plan. I mean, it's terrible, it's risky and feels unnecessarily cruel, but I think it would work."_

" _I believe it would."_

" _It shows an incredibly vicious streak in you which I didn't know you had!"_

" _You know as well as I the lengths people like me have to go to survive."_

Akkarin was brought back into the present by the sound of a door opening. Turning, he saw a young woman in novice's robes quickly enter the room. Her eyes went straight to Rothen's, wide and concerned.

"Rothen, is-"

She stopped herself. Her head then slowly turned in Akkarin's direction.

Akkarin hadn't seen Sonea since her Acceptance Ceremony, which has been over six months ago. She continued to look healthier, and appeared to be a little taller too. The girl of the slums was no longer the child he remembered staring at him in the Guild Hall, but a young woman- but her eyes held about the same amount of terror. Now he knew why.

"Excuse me, High Lord," she said in a surprisingly calm voice. He was half impressed, half irritated, that she was able to keep her calm when she must have an idea of what she was facing. But then again, that calmness would come in useful for the plan he had in mind. No screaming the place down, no obvious signs that something had gone badly wrong for her.

"Sonea, come here," Rothen said, not sharing Sonea's calm. At a gesture from him, she obediently when to him. He reached out seemingly unconsciously to squeeze her hand.

"Sonea is here, as you requested, High Lord. How may we assist you?"

Akkarin let a pause hang in the air, wanting the pair to feel the discomfort in the room as much as possible- well, if you're going to be a monster, you might as well play the part well.

"I am here to find the source of a certain…ah, rumour. A rumour I drew from the Administrator concerning you and your novice."

Rothen swallowed, clearly thinking quickly.

"I thought that rumour about us had passed. Nobody appeared to give it credence and—"

 _Oh, don't play with me, old man._

"Not _that_ rumour. I am referring to a rumour about _my_ nocturnal activities. A rumour that must be stopped."

Sonea's already pale face seemed to drain of all its remaining colour.

"You are mistaken, High Lord," Rothen began in a convincingly confused tone, "I know nothing of your —"

 _You're in so far over your head, you don't even know you're drowning. Time to end this charade._

"Do not lie to me Rothen," he said, bringing his voice down to barely above a murmur. "I would not have come here if I was not certain of it. I have just read it from Lorlen's mind."

He almost laughed as they both jumped as he moved closer. "I saw much that impressed me," he continued. As he briefly described what he believed them to know, he watched their faces. A deep frown came over Rothen's, Sonea was looking at him in panic, the cool façade having evaporated.

Rothen closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "We have no spoken a word of it to anyone," he said heavily. Akkarin felt a thrill of triumph- finally, a confession. But he kept his composure.

"So you say, I would know that for certain."

"And if I refuse?"

Akkarin resisted the temptation to role his eyes at the alchemist. This was too easy.

"I will take whatever measures you force me to take, Rothen."

A resigned expression came over the man's face. He took another deep breath, then took a step towards Akkarin. Pleased the man had finally admitted defeat, Akkarin swept his hands up to Rothen's temples as easily as a summer breeze gusts its way through an open window.

He found nothing he didn't expect to find. A seething anger that the High Lord of the Guild, its role model and highest authority, was dabbling in something that was considered evil- so evil that no one was allowed to really know what it was.

Yes, he would expose the High Lord if he had the opportunity.

No, not if Sonea's life was threatened. Absolutely not. _But no one with normal morals would ever put me in such a position,_ Akkarin heard Rothen's mind say.

Akkarin pulled his hands away from Rothen's head and gave him a long look.

 _You know nothing about my morals- I'd like to see you survive what I have survived. Defend what I defended._

"Now, Sonea."

"No! You know everything now, leave her be." Rothen's strong paternal defence rose again, anger blazing in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around Sonea.

"I cannot," Akkarin said, barely able to keep the true regret in his voice from showing.

As Rothen once again gave way and released Sonea's hands, Akkarin stepped up to her. He hesitated for the smallest fraction of a second. _Don't be a coward!_ His mind reminded him, yet again. Touching her temples, he once again drifted into another's mind.

What he found there- he couldn't say he was expecting it. The same anger as in Rothen's yes, the same desire to expose him, but only with the guarantee of her loved ones' safety. But there…something else- a fierce, defiant, unbreakable determination. It was so deeply set in her personality and way of life, it could only be said to be part of her soul.

 _I will do the right thing._

 _I will stay loyal to my friends._

 _I will go back to the slums and help them._

 _I will not let bad people do bad things._

It was this fiery side of Sonea that was able to hold off his mind reading attempts for so long, that was able to scoff at his irritation at being discovered. _Yes, I'd be angry too, if my secrets were discovered so easily,_ she mocked. This was not the easily threatened girl Akkarin had discussed with Takan. He wanted, needed to know more about where this part of her came from.

So, without thinking too hard about what he was doing, he went through her mind. Glimpses of a childhood, harsh and quickly ending, flashed by. He felt the injustice she had felt as she had flung that stone at Fergun- and understood it. He felt her fear for the people from which she had come, and respected it. He felt

In short, he understood her, better than she understood herself. Because he understood _why_ she was the person she was. Hopefully such information would help him control her. But, in reality, it was this determination that would eventually break Akkarin's resolve. In more ways than one.

 _Enough._

Opening his eyes, he turned his back on the pair before seeing the rage he sure their eyes held.

- _Takan?_

- _Master? Is it done?_

- _It is. Time to prepare the novice's bedroom, we're about to have an unexpected house guest._

 **Hello Everyone! Can you believe, I have written 100 pages, and 50,000 words? How insane is that? And I wouldn't have done it if it weren't for the love and support I get from you guys- so thank you. Thanks so much. Hope you enjoyed, as ever constructive criticism and any other general feedback is devoured- every writer should try to outdo themselves with their next chapter. See you soon! Lots of love, Cece xox**


	26. Merinus Rex

Chapter Twenty-Six: Merinus Rex

 _Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown._

One of his predecessors had said that, a long, long time ago. And as Merin rubbed his temples, warding off the effects of yet another bad night, he thought how astute his ancestor had been. It would be lovely to pass just one night without waking with a pit of cold dread in his stomach.

To the outside observer, being a monarch must look like marvellous fun. All the money you could want, all the commanding and obeisance, all the women. And Merin wasn't about to disagree that that side of monarchy was fun, and a side he took full advantage of. But what they don't tell you, as they delicately place the crown upon your anointed head and the Great Seal on your finger, is that there a lot more to being monarch than money and obesiance and women. Oh, much much more. Most of it was dull- endless paperwork, long lines of tedious people to greet and make awful conversation with and constant petitions from minor members of court. Then there was a part of being king that was downright unpleasant- being the centre of gossip, from the frivolous, unimportant gossip of what girl had caught his eye, to the far more serious, ones that threatened the very reason for his existence. His father has once told him a sovereignty could be brought down by six words. Just six words.

 _Don't you think he looks tired?_

"Please try and keep still, sir," his tailor pleaded yet again. Merin sighed in impatience, and brought his arm back carefully by his side. The man had been measuring him for a new suit of armour for what felt like a good few hours, and was against movement of any kind. Merin frowned down at his tailor as the man measured his hands, from wrist to the tip of his middle finger. When he came up to measure across his shoulders, Merin schooled his expression.

What must be understood is that Kyralian monarchs, like a lot of monarchs, believe in something called the Divine Right of Kings- they believe it is the Gods' will they are who they are. Merin certainly believed this, even though the old religion was a thing of the past in Imardin these days. But he to think, when once of his loyal subjects irritated him, such as a tailor who always took too long, that if the Gods chose, he could burn this man to ashes with just one look.

 _Magicians, eat your hearts out._

A scuffing of boots to his right almost caught Merin's attention, and he almost turned to look towards the person who had just entered the room, but he caught himself, and waited until the familiar sight of magicians' robes, tied with a gold sash, appeared in the mirror in front of him.

"Your Majesty, Good Morning," the magician bowed. "How are you this morning?"

"Good Morning, Lord Mirken. I find myself a little impatient for anything no of import this morning, so I am sincerely hoping you are not coming to me with some trivial Guild matter that my High Lord or his Administrator could easily deal with."

"No, sir, I don't. Though I do come with a message from the High Lord- he begs Your Majesty's forgiveness, but he will be unable to have your weekly meet with you this afternoon as arranged. He wondered if he could come tomorrow morning instead?"

Merin considered. "Well, you'll have to check with my aides, but as far as I'm aware, that would be fine. I'm curious as to why he has postponed, he has only very rarely done that before. Is everything well in the Guild?"

"I believe so, sir. I believe it is a more personal matter to keeps the High Lord from attending."

"A personal matter, Akkarin? I highly doubt it. What is this supposed personal matter?"

"It appears the High Lord has chosen to take on the Guardianship of a novice. He announced the decision yesterday afternoon. He has taken today to make all the arrangements."

Merin turned sharply to look at his adviser. The tailor tutted slightly.

"He's- he's taken up a _Guardianship_?!"

"Indeed, sir."

This was most curious. Merin considered Akkarin, a man he liked to think he knew well. Akkarin was never a man to make big decisions on a whim. After all, no one becomes High Lord at the tender age of twenty five by being brash and unthinking. But he had _never_ gleamed any information from Akkarin to suggest that he was at all interested in taking on the Guardianship of a novice- indeed, he had baulked at the idea in the past. So why now? Then an even more interesting question occurred to him, one he may be able to get an answer to.

"Who? Anyone I know?"

"Not by sight, but probably by reputation- it's Sonea, the girl from the Purge last year, the Natural."

Merin couldn't help gorping at the magician in front of him.

"That girl? Akkarin has taken that- that _gutter child_ under his wing? Rather than choose a nice, well-bred young man from one of the Houses?"

Mirken nodded once.

"So it would seem."

"Well, now I've heard everything. He always was…contrary, I suppose. And it also means that one House won't be crowing until the other side of the decade about their Chosen One, that will save me some belly-aching."

Mirken didn't say anything to that, but Merin thought he saw the man smother a smile in the reflection of the mirror in front of him.

"Was there anything else?" Merin asked, the tailor adjusting his head carefully so his chin was held high.

"No, Your Majesty. If it please you, I will go and speak to your Private Secretary about these rearrangements."

Merin nodded his acquiescence. Mirken bowed low before slowly walking backwards a few steps, bowed again, then turned to pace out of the room.

Merin sighed. This was yet another thing to ponder.

Why had Akkarin done this? Was it to stop the constant badgering from the Houses for them to choose a novice from one of their families? If that was the reason, Merin would be sympathetic, but surprised- Akkarin had never bent to the whims of the Court before, he reticence to give up his bachelorhood was testament to that. Was is that Akkarin wanted to make a statement of support for the lower classes? Again, Merin dismissed this idea- Akkarin had never shown any great interest in the lower classes, and taking on a Guardianship was far more than necessary to show support. No, if Merin knew Akkarin at all well, and he knew he did, there was some kind of ulterior motive for his actions. But perhaps they would only be revealed in time.

He sighed again. Patience had never been hi strongest suit.

 _Well, thank you, High Lord, for yet another thing for my crowned head to lie uneasy about._

 **Good morning everyone! My first point should be that the first line is clearly not mine, it belongs to that little known writer, William Shakespeare, in his play Henry IV Part 2. I really wanted to write something like this because I am really interested in the concept of monarchy. In the UK, we have a veeery famous royal family, and I find them absolutely fascinating. Hope you enjoyed it! Right, time to get back to studying (wails internally). A bientot! Love, Cece xox**


	27. Into The Sunlight

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Into the Sunlight

Akkarin had needed an excuse. Any excuse. It really didn't matter what it was, really.

 _How can I see Lorlen? How can I make sure he's alright?_

Of course, Lorlen wouldn't see any sort of meeting as friendly concern, but more like an attempt at spying. _Well, let him think that, if he chooses to_. No matter what had passed between them, Akkarin still cared for his friend. Possibly even more so, now he knew Lorlen's ego, and heart, were bruised. Even if his past had come between them, like an unpassable crevasse, he wasn't willing to let go- yet. Afterall, perhaps, one day, things would change. Yes, right now, they appeared to be on opposite sides, staring each other down, waiting to see which would blink first. But a storm was coming, and Akkarin knew that when it finally broke, the Guild would need to stand together, shoulder to shoulder, however little they liked the person they found themselves next to. And Akkarin would much rather go down side by side with a friend, than a former one.

So, for now, he had to keep making up excuses to see his friend. This week's one had been a request to go over Lord Davin's plans for a new lookout. To be fair on himself, Balkan had asked Akkarin several times to consider whether such plans could be combined with some military components to make the plans more…well, useful, to put it plainly. As important as scientific endeavour is, research for the sake of research alone is not an acceptable use of time, money or resources. Combining two plans together had mellowed a lot of the Guild's qualms about the building. Both Davin and Balkan had come out feeling like the victor, which was all to the good as well- nothing like happy children for a quiet life for their parents.

In the old days, that already felt so long ago, Akkarin would have made that joke to Lorlen, his fellow 'parent', and he would have been sure to make him laugh. But he knew if he attempted that today, he would be met with silence. Lorlen said nothing as they climbed the stairs to the roof. He hadn't said anything except a "good afternoon" when Akkarin had arrived in his office. Akkarin hadn't thought Lorlen was capable of this level of chilliness- well, he stood corrected.

They reached the protected door that lead to the flat part of the university's roof. Akkarin placed his hand on the handle and, as always, it creaked slowly open. Bright sunlight greeted them, the piercing light a setting autumnal sun gives out, brushing all the shadows away, bringing everything into view.

Akkarin hadn't expected anyone else to be up here, so, after blinking several times to adjust to change in brightness, seeing a young warrior leaning on the railing, looking down into the gardens, was a slight surprise. Still, it a chance to kill two birds with one stone. Indeed, three birds- finally a chance to create some conversation with Lorlen.

"We have company," Akkarin said softly over his shoulder, before nodding at Yikmo.

"Ah, Lord Yikmo," Lorlen replied after a pause. "Balkan must have given him access."

Akkarin rolled his eyes, he hadn't thought of that. "There are so many identities imprinted into the door, I wonder why we bother to lock it."

"Balkan would not have granted him access if he did not regard him highly."

Akkarin considered the haughtiness in Lorlen's tone. Then he remembered when he had heard such a voice used before and had to hold back a smile. It was the tone his young nieces and nephews used when didn't get their way. They would sulk in a corner and sound off at everyone in that tone until something caught their attention enough to make them forget their chagrin. Whilst Akkarin doubted Lorlen could be as easily assuaged, he could play at this little game too.

"Of course, our Head of Warrior knows that his methods of teaching are not suited to every novice," he fired back. "I'm sure he's aware that Yikmo draws attention away from his own weaknesses."

Lorlen said nothing to that.

Yikmo didn't notice their presence until they were close enough to speak. His hasty bow and greetings showed he had been in deep thought.

Akkarin looked down from the roof to the gardens, estimating where Yikmo had been gazing. It wasn't hard to guess which novice in the garden was the source of his interest. She was deeply engrossed in a book, compeltely unaware of the three magicians watching her from above. Which was probably a very good thing.

"Is she improving?" he asked quietly, resting his hands on the railing.

The sigh Yikmo gave said it all. "Not as rapidly as I hoped," he confessed. "She still hesitates to strike. I'm starting to understand why, though."

Akkarin glanced at the Warrior. "Oh?"

"She's far too nice."

Akkarin held back a hollow laugh. "How so?" he asked, looking back at Sonea.

"She's worried that she might hurt somebody- even her enemies." There was a pregnant pause then. It was like Yikmo was deciding whether to go further. He finally took in a deep breath, and turned to face Akkarin head on. "Last night, I discovered Regin and several other novices tormenting Sonea. They had worn her down to near exhaustion, and were using stunstrike."

Akkarin heard Lorlen gasp, and wanted to glare at him.

 _Can you please stop acting like_ you're _her guardian?_

Yikmo nodded solemnly. "I reminded them of the Guild rules, and sent them to their rooms."

Sonea had always been a slight oddity to him, an intrigue to observe from a distance with curiosity. Until now, Akkarin had considered her like a rare antique in a shop- you pick it up, consider it with interest for a few moments, admire its beauty and uniqueness, then put it down and get on with your day. Life is far too busy and chaotic to consider such trifles for too long, after all. Now, Akkarin had to consider the young woman sitting below differently- no longer was she the innocent curiosity, observable from a safe distance. Now she was a potential danger- like a bomb that could ignite at any moment. But, conversely, he also had consider her from a far more personal perspective- from that of Guardian, from that of the person who now shared her roof and was supposed to protect her. He knew wasn't going to be very good at that, and inwardly berated himself for it.

"How many novices were there?" _This time._

Yikmo took in a deep breath as he considered. "Twelve or thirteen. I can identify most of them."

Akkarin nodded slowly, thinking. When he had felt her power from a distance during the Purge, he had gauged that she was very strong. Indeed, statements Rothen had made about her strength once she had been found had only confirmed this. However, it had only been when he had entered her mind those few short weeks ago, that he realised quite how extraordinarily strong she was. But that wasn't the only information he had at his fingertips.

Of course Akkarin knew about the fights- don't be so naïve as to assume he was that ignorant.

Of course he cared what happened to Sonea during the course of those fights- don't be so naïve as to assume he was that callous.

And of course he didn't get involved- he had got a very strong impression from Sonea, and understandably so, that she wanted as little to do with him as possible. Fair enough. So he left her to it, but made sure that the other novices never went too far. Plus, he knew, by his own personal experience, that the best way of learning to defend yourself is actually having to do it.

Whilst Akkarin had no previous experience of being a Guardian, he was quickly learning you could be one of two types- the type that hovers over their charge, defending them again any adversity, or the type that allows them to figure it out on their own. Teach a man to fish, and all that. But then again, maybe that was just an excuse to help him swallow his guilt at 'letting' Sonea be hurt.

All this was why he eventually said slowly, "That won't be necessary. There is no need to bring further attention to the incident. Thank you for informing me of this, Yikmo."

Yikmo opened his mouth, then shut it again and nodded. He bowed more gracefully than before, nodded to Lorlen, and escaped down the stairway.

Akkarin looked back to his novice. So, her fights with the other novices were out for others to see and hear about now- out in the sunlight. He considered how he would respond when people asked him why he didn't intervene- well, if they were brave enough to ask.

So many novices- the number had grown from the last time he had managed to watch. He wondered how he would have dealt with it at her age. Well, he would have had his best friend to help. He couldn't help but smile at such an imagining.

"Twelve or thirteen- her strength is growing quickly. I remember a novice in my class whose power grew just as fast."

"As I recall, you progressed just as quickly." And there it was, that haughty tone was back again. Akkarin wanted to roll his eyes- but he _had_ promised himself to try and be as jovial with Lorlen as possible. To show him he wasn't all monster.

"I've often wondered if we would have, had we not been constantly trying to outdo each other."

"Probably."

 _Oh, you're really going to make this as difficult as possible, aren't you?_

"I don't know," he said aloud mildly, "perhaps the rivalry was good for us."

The snort that came then caught Akkarin by surprise. "Good for _you._ Believe me, there was nothing good about second place. Next to you- I may as well have been invisible- at least when it came to the girls. If I'd known we'd both end up bachelors, I wouldn't have been so jealous of you."

Akkarin turned to stare openly at his friend. He realised it was the first time he had properly looked at him that day. Come to think of it, it was the first time he had properly looked at him since _that_ night.

"Jealous?" he said, not able to hide the incredulity in his voice. Lorlen stared back impassively, the neutral expression that he used when dealing with the Guild.

 _Lorlen is, was, jealous of_ me? _Oh, the irony is sweet._

He had an urge to laugh and cry at the same time.

He had had no idea Lorlen had felt that way, and if he had he certainly would have done something about it. He had no desire to make his closest friend feel anything less than proud of himself- after all, what are friends for? Yes, they had challenged each other, worked to best the other, but Akkarin had always thought it was in the spirit of friendship. Considering his friend now, he wondered what else he may have got wrong about his friend. How well did he really know him? And, from the opposite perspective, how well had Lorlen ever really known him?

Because Lorlen would never know how jealous Akkarin was of _him_. Of his innocence, of his gentle life in the Guild, of his ability to sleep at night. Looking back to the view, his gaze moved from the Guild gardens and to city and beyond. His mind took him far beyond what his gaze could see, to the land where everything had changed.

"No, don't be jealous," he said softly. _Because there truly is nothing to be jealous of._ And as has he had learnt to do after years of practice, he brought his mind back to the present, and away from the haunted past.

 **Happy October, everyone! It's Autumn, my favourite season, so I'm very happy. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, as ever please leave your thoughts behind if you would like, I always love hearing from you. Next chapter probably same time next week! Lots of love, Cece xox**


	28. My Love, My Life

Chapter Twenty-Eight: My Love, My Life

As Rothen opened his eyes, the room was mostly dark. A slight movement to his right caught his attention. He looked in surprise at the visitor sitting in one of his guestroom chairs, quietly reading one of the books he recognised from his own shelves. Her expression was the one she always had when reading- of happy, intelligent curiosity. Her fingers not holding the book were tracing circles into the arm of the chair, a habitual gesture Rothen knew meant she was thinking hard.

"When did you get here?" he asked groggily.

The visitor looked over at him at the sound of his voice, a gentle smile gracing her already soft features. She placed the book on the low table between them and leaned towards him, green robes rustling as she did so. "Oh, a little while ago," she said with quiet affection.

"But you didn't wake me?"

"No, I thought you needed the sleep. You look tired, my love. What's bothering you?"

Rothen gave the woman a knowing look. "You always know what's bothering me."

She smiled crookedly back at him. "Whilst that may be true, I think it would be helpful for you to voice it."

Rothen sighed, and passed a hand over his face. "Lately it seems like I lose everyone."

The woman seemed to tut slightly. "Oh, come now! Who?"

"Well, to start with, Dorrien."

"Dorrien is still very much part of your life. He's just at a distance, that's all, and doing very important work- you should be proud of him."

"Alright, Dannyl."

"Dannyl is a young man on a new adventure- once he has earnt for himself. He'll be back soon, he's so very fond of you. Who else is on your list?"

Rothen paused, trying to suppress the emotion he felt at the next name. Eventually he managed to clear his throat. "You would have liked Sonea, you know- she reminds me a lot of you."

"I do not doubt I would have loved her- she sounds wonderful. And very good for you, too."

"She was."

"She's not gone, Rothen. Have faith." A sternness entered her voice now.

"And how do you know that?" he retorted irritably.

"Because I am in a position to know things you don't."

"You don't need to remind me."

"Rothen," she said soothingly. Her voice always had a way of bringing him back to himself- a voice that felt like coming home. "Peace- I didn't mean to upset you."

"Well then, if you are in that position as you say, you must know know what the last name on my list is," he said, in a calmer tone this time.

The woman simply nodded, no readable emotion in her gaze. She sighed, and reached for his hand, but stopped herself just before she touched it. "Do you remember when we met?" she asked softly.

He chuckled softly. "Of course I do. It was on the first floor of the Novices' Library, my second year, your first. I showed you where you could practice making smoke rings out the window without Jullen noticing."

"And in return I helped you revise for your Anatomy final three years later, despite being in the year below and with my own studying to do."

"I said "thank you", didn't I?!"

"I believe you did when you proposed after your graduation celebrations, yes." She looked away, smiling to herself, seeming to enjoy the memory.

"I meant in other ways, but alright then."

She gave him a withering look, but then chuckled at the boyish pride on his face. "Alright, that too." Her face then grew more serious. "And do you remember what we promised each other, when we were married? Beyond the official vows, obviously."

Rothen nodded slowly. "We promised to never let each other's demons get in the way of our better angels."

"Exactly. And that is what I am doing right now, can't you see? You're letting yourself be defeated, dearheart. It's time to rejoin the land of the living. There are many good times still to be had. No storm lasts forever, this one will pass too- I promise."

Rothen looked at her helplessly. "I don't know how to get through this storm."

"Well, stop taking that awful nemin stuff for a start. I never liked prescribing it, myself." Her voice softened then. "Then focus on your classes, focus on all the novices that you are able to help. Don't squader your talents – you truly are an exceptional teacher. You started all those years ago by showing me how to make smoke rings- don't let that effort go to waste."

Rothen looked hard at her. Then he let out a breath heavily, shaking his head, working something out. "This is a dream, isn't it?" he said. He looked back at the woman sitting beside him.

Yilara's smile lessened slightly as she nodded, fair hair moving softly around her face as she did so. "But a very good dream, is it not?"

Rothen smiled at her. "The very best. You are still my love and my life, no matter the years we were robbed of."

Yilara came to crouch beside him- beautiful grey eyes, full of love and concern, looked deeply into his. She was close enough for him to feel warmth radiating from her. "You know I never really left you- not really. Nothing can separate people who truly love each other. I'm never far away."

"I will see you again, then?"

"As sure as the sun rises in the east. I'll be waiting for you, to spend eternity together."

She smiled then, a genuine, joyful smile, and held up her hand.

Rothen reached out, and as he placed his palm against her's, feeling the soft warmth of her skin, the scene seemed to fade.

When Rothen truly opened his eyes, he was once again alone in his guestroom. He sighed. He got up, and put the jar of nemin powder into a drawer. He then made a couple of glow lights, and went to his bookshelves, and considered where his second years were at in the curriculum.

It was time to rejoin the land of the living.

 **Okay, that turned out to be a lot more emotional than I was expecting it to be! Yowza!**

 **Now, I've had a couple of super interesting reviews pertaining to my views on Akkarin- firstly thank you soooo much for sending them. I am presenting him in a rather sympathetic light, to be sure. This is not a view I expect everyone to hold. I do believe, however, he is a fundamentally good person. Flawed, yes, with an awful and questionable history, yes, but in the end, he gives his life in the service of the Guild. He does everything he does to keep the Guild (and Kyralia) safe. Sonea considers in book three, "he might even be a good person." So that's why I present him the way I do, as a "tortured soul", as it were. I also** **never** **believed he would go on to marry Sonea if she had graduated as his novice- I genuinely think he would have come up with some other arrangement. That would have looked way too obvious- she clearly hated him! But again, that's just one woman's view. See you all sooooon, love Cece xox**


	29. Of Cabbages and Kings

Chapter Twenty-Nine: "Of Cabbages and Kings"

The clink of cutlery and slight sounds of chewing was all that could be heard in the overly-grand dining room. Well, that's probably a bit unfair- whilst the dining room probably wouldn't be considered overly grand when considering the real reason it had been built, for the purpose of entertaining the Allied Lands' most powerful and important people, the ways its current owner used it made its ornateness obsolete.

Taking a sip from his wineglass, Akkarin considered his dining companion. Sonea was, as always, keeping her gaze carefully down at her plate, only ever glancing quickly up in order to reach for her glass or to help herself from the platters on the middle of the table. He was pleased to see her eating more than last time, but not so pleased that she seemed set on being as untalkative as before. He was going to have to cajoule her into conversation.

It had been a very long time since he had to entertain a young woman at dinner. Thinking about it, had he ever? Thinking back, he decided he probably had, given the overly confident young man he used to be, and considering the great efforts to which his mother had gone to find him a suitable wife. But that had before….then. Before…her. He wasn't the young boy who hadn't had to work hard at making conversation and getting people to like him anymore. He was the man who had returned from Hell and had been deprived of what civilised society was like. He chastised himself inwardly- he ought to be able to make conversation with an ordinary eighteen-year-old girl.

"We have spoken about your Warrior Skills classes, but not your others," he said into the silence. "How are you finding them?"

"They are going well, High Lord."

Akkarin resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her shortness. It was to be expected, after all. "I was hoping for a little more detail," he replied. Another silence. He sighed. "It is my duty to make sure that you get the best possible training, after all," he said, attempting to sound more placating.

He frowned as he saw her eye brows rise, and the slightest of wry chuckles escape her lips.

"I apologise, I haven't the ability to understand what that meant," he said, setting his cutlery down and leaning back in his chair.

For the first time since sitting down, Sonea looked up at him. She blushed hotly when he didn't look away, and went back to her careful examination of her food. His gaze wasn't enough to coax her into an explanation.

"Do you not believe I have an interest in your education, then?" he pressed.

"I—" She said slowly, before reaching for her wineglass and draining it.

Perhaps this was a little cruel of him.

"Well, in lieu of an answer from you, I will say that I actually do have an interest. This may not be a situation either of us exactly planned for, but I certainly have no plans on sabotaging your training by…having you here. At the very least, I think we should be able to discuss your lessons with a molecule of decorum, don't you agree?"

Sonea nodded her head curtly. "Yes, High Lord."

Satisfied, Akkarin picked up his cutlery once more. He decided to pick a topic that he thought would be easiest for her to talk about- something that she was good at and enjoyed. "So, now we have that sorted, you can start by telling me what you have been learning about in your Healing classes."

Sonea considered for a moment, head tilting to the side as she thought. The vice-like grip that she had on her cutlery seemed to loosen slightly. "Well, today Lady Indria told us about how Healers give vaccinations."

"Ah, tricky little procedures, those, from what I recall. They take up a lot of a healer's time and energy for an uncertain reward. It's not common practice, only done for people who are considered to be at risk- the infirm, for example."

"That's what Lady Indria said."

"Do you think she's right?"

"No, High Lord." The answer came back immediately, confidently.

"Why?"

"Because Healing is more than just a theoretical subject. It's about doing good."

Now they were getting somewhere. But Akkarin wasn't quite done testing her yet. "So you would take a utilitarian view of how we should using Healing? That healing is about doing good, and doing the greatest good for the greatest number?" he asked.

"Yes, High Lord."

Akkarin thought through his next words carefully, not wanting to come across as insulting or patronising. "I suppose that comes from the fact that, growing up in the Slums, you saw more suffering than most of your classmates combined as a result of infections, though it was their acquaintance who received treatment from the Healers, and not your's, for the same illness."

"I suppose so, yes."

Akkarin nodded slowly. "I understand that. It is a point that has been raised to me more than once, I can tell you. But no one seems to be able to present me with a particularly good solution. So, what would you propose we do about it?"

Sonea's fork stopped halfway to her mouth. "I'm sorry?" she stammered, looking at him with wide eyes.

"It's alright, I asked for your opinion. What do propose we do about vaccinating the larger population of Imardin?"

"But you just said that no one has presented you with any good solutions."

"That doesn't negate your ability to do so."

"Well, I…I haven't really thought it through."

"Your preliminary ideas then. All good plans start as ideas."

She rested her chin in her hand as she thought, fork bouncing slightly in her hand.

"Well, the way I see it," she began slowly, "is that if the people in the slums were vaccinated, then, in the long run, this would save time, money and resources by not having to treat them."

She looked up at him, seeming to need some kind of validation. He nodded once. "I accept that premise."

"Well, we could send out a reasonable number of Healers every day for a period before the snows come, because that's just before the risk of catching an infection is greatest, according to Indria. We could ask the people to be vaccinated against the most common illnesses- this could be particularly encouraged for those more at risk."

"And what makes you think that these people would welcome such a gesture? They may not trust what we want to do for them is in their best interests."

"We could educate them- explain to them exactly what it is we would be trying to do. They would respond to that."

"Like with information posters?"

"Well, no, seeing as most of them can't read- probably more someone going and explaining it to them- preferably not someone from the Guild."

Whilst the idea was certainly different to the others he had heard, Sonea's solution had the same issue that all the others had. "And who is going to pay for all this?" he asked, raising it. "The whole reason most of Imardin's populace aren't treated by healers is because the expense is beyond what they could every afford."

Curiously, Sonea looked up at him then, a more determined look in her eyes now. "Every adult citizen of Imardin pays taxes. Some of those taxes go towards the running of the Guild, so we can live like, well, this," she said with a slight shrug, indicating at the finery around them. "Surely they should get something back from the thing that their money pays for?"

Well, she had got him there. "There is a certain amount of logic in that, I agree," he said. The smallest of smiles crossed her face briefly, then she returned to fininigher her meal. Akkarin felt himself smile slightly, too. He was pleased they had managed to have even the briefest of discussions with some level of decorum. And what she had said was…intriguing. No one had ever suggested educating the people of the slums before. Well, it had been assumed that they wouldn't have the intellect to understand. Sonea was living proof that that assumption had been a stupid one.

They remained in silence as Takan cleared the plates away and brought dessert, but this silence wasn't nearly as suppressing- more like the silence you get when two people are thinking independently. Another definite improvement. Akkarin was pleased enough with the progress made that he decided he had pushed her enough for one evening, and to let her eat in peace.

"But why stop there?"

As Akkarin was about to raise a spoonful of fruit to his mouth, he was stopped by the unexpected sound of Sonea's voice. He glanced up.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why stop there?" she repeated, a new light in her eyes, a light he had never seen there before. "If we are going to go to the trouble of vaccinating everyone in the slums, and therefore had taught them about what Healers can and cannot do, why not go one step further? Treat them for the illnesses they actually present with, whilst they're there?"

Akkarin leaned back and considered her. He had clearly set her off on something here- but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Still, it was probably worth warning her off before she got too in love with the idea. "What you're now proposing is a vastly broader initiative, which therefore makes it less likely to work, or be accepted," he said firmly. "For one thing, that would take much more time and far more Healing energy on the part of the Healers who go."

"Would it? If we've already gone to the trouble of sending out people to educate them, to gather them in places where they could be treated. I'm not suggesting we do major surgery but—" she paused, and glanced away, "it seems cruel to me to introduce them to what could be done for them and not give it to them."

Akkarin suddenly realised he was now on the back foot in this situation. She was right and they both knew it. This issue was that when it comes right down to it, policy is far more influenced by what is practical than what is right.

"Well, I think Lady Vinara would a few things to say about it, if I was ever brave enough to suggest it to her," he said, reaching for the wine decanter and pouring himself a fresh glass, "but I guess the theorical possibility isn't completely outlandish. You would have awful lot of people to convince, though."

She smiled then, a smile he recognised that was often seen by someone who has just won a bout in the Arena. "Just because something isn't easy doesn't mean that isn't worth doing," she said. Then she looked out the window, and quickly turned her attention back to him.

"May I be excused, High Lord?"

Knowing she had an evening class to attend, Akkarin nodded. Sonea rose from the table, bowed to him in a far more graceful manner than the last time, and quickly took her leave.

Soon after, Takan came in and started to clear away the plates.

"Any better than last time, Master?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, perhaps a little."

"Well, that's progress, of a fashion."

"I suppose so."

"And what did you talk about?"

Akkarin rose from his chair and, picking up his wine glass, moved to one of the dining room windows, one of the ones that offered a view of the gardens and the prettier side of the university. He watched as a familiar brown-clothed figure hurried in the direction of the welcoming lights of the university.

"Oh, of cabbages and kings. And possibilities for the future."

One of the last things she had said before leaving still danced around his mind. It would continue to do so as he returned to his study, and then even later when he finally turned in for the night, and lay staring up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom.

Just because something isn't easy doesn't mean it isn't worth doing.

 **I have to send a MASSIVE shoutout to my one of my new reviewers, Natascha! Girl, you are absolutely not annoying me when you review me, I LOVED reading your thoughts, thank you so much for sending me them! I don't want to write a massive answer to here so as to not annoy people, but do feel free to DM me on here. I love the fact I get to chat with people on a really deep level about these books, genuinely really love it. I get so many guest reviewers who write such wonderful, wonderful things- I hate not being able to reply in person to you, but I just want you to know I read them all and get so much joy from them. Thank you, thank you, thank you. All my love, Cece xox**


	30. Until We Meet Again

Chapter Thirty: Until We Meet Again

The sun had reached the apex of its graceful arc across the Elyne sky by the time Dannyl was (almost) ready to leave. He had meant to set off earlier, but every time he thought he was ready for the road, he remembered something else. His nerves were not helping with his packing skills.

Errand hadn't helped either, coming in at regular intervals to question why Dannyl was leaving in the first place. "It's just so...unorthodox," he had grumbled. "Why is the High Lord so intrigued by your research? I would have thought he had more pressing matters on his hands than history."

Dannyl had tried not take that last remark personally. "You would have to ask him," he had shrugged.

"By why does he want to see you personally? Why not just ask for your notes to be sent to him by courier? And so suddenly, too!"

"He just said he wanted a full report, perhaps what he wants to ask can't really be written on paper. You have to admit, it very much in character with his mysterious ways."

"Well anyway, it's extremely vexing. I was hoping to send you to the Degter's house party next week, now I'll have to go."

"You don't have to spend weeks in a boat," Dannyl muttered under his breath.

"Did you say something?"

"No, Ambassador."

He sighed at the memory as he headed down the stairs of the Guildhouse for what he hoped was the last time. Then he heard a sharp knocking at the front door.

"Don't trouble yourself, I've got it," he called to the servant who had come out of the reception room to answer it. The man bowed and walked away as Dannyl strode to the door and opened it. The man he had been hoping to see stood in front of him.

"Ambassador Dannyl," Tayend said formally, bowing gracefully. "I have brought the notes you requested," he continued, gesturing to the papers tied neatly into a stack with ribbon in his arms.

"That's much appreciated. Come on in and make yourself comfortable while I look them over."

Dannyl moved out of the doorway to let him in, then led Tayend up the familiar route to his study. Gesturing for Tayend to enter before him, he shut the door behind them and moved to settle himself behind his desk.

"I hope they are as you requested, I certainly hope wrote them to be," Tayend said formally, handing the bundle over. Dannyl glanced at him in amusement as he untied the ribbons and started sorting through them.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

"Do what, my Lord?"

"Act so formally- no one can hear us in here."

"Oh."

"Sit down, will you? You're making me edgy."

"Right." Tayend sat, hands clasped nervously in his hands in his lap.

Dannyl skimmed through the top sheets, then nodded to himself, satisfied.

"This looks good."

"Really? You don't think it sounds too...investigative?"

"Well, it is research."

"Yes, but...well, you know what I mean."

"I do, and no, it doesn't. It sounds like a study of a subject, not a person." Dannyl looked up at Tayend and smiled fondly. "Thank you for doing this for me, and so quickly, too."

"You don't have to thank me." The answer was simple, but was enough to make Dannyl's heart tingle with happiness. How had he forgotten how good this felt, to love and to be loved?

Tayend sighed and leaned back in his chair "So, when do you leave?"

"Well, now, to be honest. The servants are packing the last of my things onto the carriage as we speak to head to the marina."

Tayend took a sharp breath. "So soon?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"You- you will come back, won't you?"

Dannyl considered his friend- no, that's not right- his lover carefully. He rose and walked to the other side of the desk. He pulled Tayend to his feet and, without thinking, kissed him firmly.

"Of course I will. This changes nothing," he breathed against Tayend's lips, fingers resting against the warmth of his neck.

Tayend smiled and pulled away. "I'm glad to hear it, but I don't want to get you in any trouble," he said, glancing at the study door. "Well, any more trouble, come to think of it."

"Tayend," Dannyl said softly, his hands still wrapped around the scholar's. He squeezed them softly. "I just refound myself because if you. It would be pretty unthankful of me to walk away now."

"Again, you don't need to thank me. It's what people do when-" he stopped himself abruptly.

"When they- what?"

"Oh, nothing."

"No, what were you going to say?"

Tayend looked away shyly, an emotion Dannyl had never seen in him. There was silence as Tayend was clearly thinking something over in his head.

"When they love each other," Tayend said suddenly. He looked at Dannyl, a fierce light in his eyes. "Because that's how I feel. I love you." As Dannyl stared at him, a blush rose. "It's fine, you don't have to say it back. I just...I just needed to say it." Tayend looked as if to leave, but Dannyl caught him by the shoulders and, looking into Tayend's eyes, took a deep breath.

"And I love you. I have loved you since the moment we met- I'm just sorry it took me so long to realise it."

It was Tayend's turn to kiss him then. Not a kiss that wanted to turn into something more, those had already happened in abundance, but a kiss of tender affection and care. Dannyl felt fingers run though his hair, pulling him closer. When it was over, Tayend placed his forehead against Dannyl's and sighed shakily.

"That will have to last me, until we meet again," he murmured. "Hurry back to me, my wonderful, wonderful, magician. I've already waited a life time for you, I don't want to have to repeat the process."

Dannyl pulled away from him slightly, knowing if he kept this close to him, he wouldn't be able to hold back the almost irresistible temptation that the body in his arms had put before him. "Are you coming to the marina?"

"Oh, no- I don't think I could watch you sail away. Plus I am awful at goodbyes. Which is why..."

To Dannyl's surprise, Tayend pulled away from his hold and went to the door. He opened it, saying, "thank you for your time, Ambassador."

"There is no need to thank me."

Tayend held out his hand. "Have a good journey, my Lord."

Dannyl took Tayend's hand hand and shook it. "Until we meet again."

As he left the room for the carriage, his fingers slipped through Tayend's, keeping contact with him for as long as possible. He

It was definitely time to leave.

Quickly, Dannyl made his farewells with Errand, then picked up the last of his items, and bundled himself into the carriage.

Looking back at the Guildhouse, he saw the man he loved standing at the front door, a hand shading his eyes to watch the carriage roll away. As their eyes met, he didn't wave, just smiled warmly; a smile that, when he thought back on it, would give Dannyl the courage he needed to face the next few weeks.

Until we meet again, my wonderful, wonderful scholar.

 **Hello again, my lovely ones! I am once again a wee bit nervous about this chapter- don't get me wrong,** **I have no issue whatsoever** **with writing about gay couples, but more about the writing itself- as a cis, straight female, I can't say I have personally experienced male sexuality. So if you think something I've written is off or not okay, please, please let me know. It is not my intention to insult anyone with my writing.  
On a less nervous note, I am *officially* half way through my planned chapters! Whoo! I wouldn't have written this far without your support, so thank you so much for all your words of encouragement. You all mean the world to me, thank you. Love, Cece xox**


	31. He Only Saw Her In His Dreams

**Pre-Note: Whilst I don't actually actively describe any here, this chapter contains some references to violence. If that's something that might upset of trigger you, please skip this chapter. There's nothing I want to do less than upset my beautiful readers! C xox**

Chapter Thirty-One: He Only Saw Her In His Dreams

Akkarin woke.

His first sensation was strong sunlight burning behind his eyelids. As he opened them and grimaced, he realised it wasn't the pleasant Kyralian dawn sort of light, but a blood-red, vicious, suspiciously Sachakan sunset. That should have been his first clue.

His second sensation was the sand between his fingers as he stretched them. Sitting up slightly, and taking in his surroundings, the penny finally dropped.

He was still here.

The nightmare that would never end.

The wastes went on for miles in every direction. Not a single hill, not a single valley, interrupted their desolate sovereignty across the landscape. He ad a distinct feeling he ought to be somewhere that was not here, but couldn't for the life of him remember where that place was.

The movement of fabric on fabric behind him drew his attention.

"What are you doing here?!" An incredulous voice asked in sachakan. A voice that made his heart leap and his blood race through his veins. He turned to look behind him and saw a woman moving quickly towards him. She grasped his arms and pulled him to his feet with surprising strength. "Dakova will kill you if he finds you here- you're supposed to be in the mines!" Large, amber, terrified eyes looked deeply into his own. He couldn't help but smile at her- he had forgotten quite about beautiful she was.

"I'm so pleased to see you," he breathed. He reached forward and curl a strand of her hair around his finger. He drank the sight of her in as if she was an oasis and he a man an hour from death by dehydration. Every inch of her was as perfect as his memory remembered, despite the scars that criss-crossed across her caramel skin, and the bright gold of her clothes that singled her out as a pleasure slave.

"Akkarin, are you listening to me?" she asked sternly, tightening her grip on his arms, the bangles on her wrists jangling as she did so. "You have to get back to your work station- he'll be out here any minute." Looking anxiously back at the tent, she took his hand and dragged him into a run, leading him away from the clearing where he had woken to the collection of tents that stood a little away from the one she had left. Choosing a tent that was as far out of site of that one as she could, she dropped to a crouch behind it, and he followed suit.

"He is not happy today," she whispered, looking around carefully.

Akkarin scoffed. "When is he ever happy?"

"Never, I suppose- but he's at his least unhappy when he's been…satisfied, shall we say."

It was then Akkarin noticed the bruise on he cheek bone. "He hit you again, didn't he?"

She nodded without hesitation. "Of course."

He reached out to gently touch her face. "I could –"

She pushed his hand away, still watching the tent intensely. "No. Davoka would notice. And he'd know you are the only person who could do it."

His hands balled tightly into fists at the calmness in her voice. "Why do you put up with it? Why? I'll never understand it."

She looked at him, a gentler expression softening her features. "Because it's my job to put up with it."

"No, it isn't."

"We've been over this, Akkarin. You're not from here- you do not understand our ways. People like me- we don't get to choose our fates. Men like him do."

As if on cue, the tent flap opened once again. A broad man of sachakan descent strode out. Akkarin flinched at the sight of him. Opulent jewellery covered almost every bare patch of skin, and the scarlet hue of his jacket pointed him out as an important man. An important man with a deep set scowl penetrating every feature of his face. He was still buckling his infamous curved knife to his waist as his voice roared across the landscape.

"LEILA!" he bellowed. He began to stride towards the other tents, and the woman tensed by Akkarin's side. She turned once again to look at him.

"Run- Akkarin," Leila implored him, a pleading look coming into her eyes now. "Run before he catches us. I'll cover for you."

"I won't leave you."

"He will kill you if he finds you insubordinate- he won't do that to me. He'll just do…other things. Things I am used to by now."

"But—"

"Oh, you stupid man! Will you ever learn?! Just go, this isn't the moment for your Kyralian heroicism!"

He took her face between his hands and made her look at him. "You could come with me. We could get away from here."

"No- I couldn't."

"Why ever not?"

"Because this is the only life I have ever known- you have known better. And deserve better." Leila pulled his hands away from her face and pushed at him slightly. "Run, Akkarin! I'm not going to change my mind."

He knew she wouldn't. With one final, imploring look at her, Akkarin leaned forward and pressed his lips hard against hers. Leila froze for a fraction of a second, then kissed him back. It only lasted the length of a heartbeat, but they were able to say everything they didn't have time to in that simple kiss. Then Akkarin pulled away, did as he was told and ran.

It would be the last time he ever saw her.

Keeping low behind the tents, he made it to the other side without being seen. He paused, wanting to make sure she would be alright. In horror, Akkarin could only watch as Dakova's face snapped over to where she was hiding. He stalked over, and grabbed her by her waist, pulling her back in front of the tents.

"Ah, there you are, my pretty one."

Leila immediately got down on her knees to kneel before him. "Master, I apologise. I needed to—"

"Oh, shut up. Where's that lover of yours? My pet magician has apparently decided to become a fugitive."

"I don't k—"

A slap, like the crack of a whip, echoed across the campsite.

"Oh, please master, don't—" she whimpered.

"I will do what I like, you disobedient whore! What is the point of you if you don't do as you're told?"

"But I have never disobeyed you!"

From Akkarin's vantage point, he could just hear the sigh, a sigh so soft and yet so menancing. "Oh Leila, Leila, if only that were true. You know what I do to disobedients, don't you?"

The sound of a blade being removed from a scabbard , and Akkarin made himself back away. When he wasn't in danger of being seen standing upright, he sprinted in the direction of the mines.

But not before he heard a woman's voice screaming behind him.

She'd been wrong about what Davoka would do to her.

Akkarin woke.

His eyes snapped open to the welcome sight of his dark bedroom. He was breathing heavily, sweat cooling on his skin, his mind still separating dream from reality. He sat up and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

It had been a dream. Yes, yes. Just a dream.

But once upon a time, that dream had been a reality.

Fear engulfed him, as it often did after such night terrors. The screams rang round his head like they were echoing off the Guildhall walls. Well, there was no point trying to get back to sleep now. All he would do would be to lie there, the past going over and over in his mind.

So, he rose and dressed, deciding to write some letters to be sent with the first post in the morning. Then he would head into the city, find where the Thief had spotted the slave, and work out a plan of attack.

Creating a gentle globe light, he left his bedroom, and headed to the stairs to go up to the second floor, where his study was.

As he was about to ascend the stairs, he stopped, hand hovering just above the bannister. He turned to look at the door to the room he had just passed.

No, he shouldn't. She was fine, of course she would be fine.

But…what if she wasn't?

Akkarin stood, rocking on his heels, his conscience wrestling with itself in his mind. He was not a superstitious man- not in the slightest. He didn't believe in premonitions, fortune-telling or that the position of the stars in the sky could change his fate- but he did believe in his gut instinct. And dreams were often his mind's way of telling him something was happening.

A new slave had entered the city a few nights prior. Ceryni had sent the usual encrypted message. Akkarin had decided to wait until the salve was feeling a little more confident, and let his guard down enough to be tricked. Whilst he was confident he could deal with the intruder as easily as ever, Akkarin had never expected to have to worry about another person in his house who could be targeted. Simply by having Sonea, a very powerful magician without the ability to protect herself, under his roof, she had become a sitting duck target.

He couldn't fail. Not again. That thought decided it for him.

With the faintest whip of magic, Akkarin silently opened Sonea's bedroom door. He dimmed his globelight further, and moved across the threshold. Guilt stole across him as he invaded Sonea's privacy, but he knew the guilt he would feel if anything were to happen to her would be far, far more intense.

Taking in the darkened room, his eyes immediately swept to the bed, and the person sleeping in it. Sonea seemed deep in a contented sleep, turning onto his side toward him as he stepped closer. He took a deep, steadying breath- yes, she was fine. Of course she was fine.

As a final check, his mind ever-so-gently reached for her's. Her vast store of power was almost in tact and was quietly growing as she slept. No concerns there- it was quite normal for any magician to use up part of their store during he day, and this was especially for Sonea, whilst she had to fend off the gang of novices who continued to harass her. As the memory of the last battle went through his mind, Akkarin felt a peculiar sensation- one he had not experienced before. He considered what it was. And was startled at his discovery.

It was pride.

Akkarin found himself actually proud of his novice, and her ability to evade over twenty novices at once- had there ever been another novice who could have done the same? Well, beside himself, but he was anomalous. He didn't know whether this turn of events was a good thing or not- but possibly now wasn't the right time to ponder it.

As Sonea stirred slightly, Akkarin moved quickly to the door, bringing the globelight with him. With one last glance, he stepped out of the room and pulled the door closed. And the world was at peace once more- but for how long?

 **Goodness me, I hope you're all okay and still with me. On a happier note than that entire chapter, I've now had over 70 reviews, which I deem remarkable on such a little story as mine! Thank you, for each and every one of them. I try to respond to as many as I can, but I don't always have time. But I always read them and appreciate them. Next chapter same time next week, where I'm going to be trying out a character I haven't really written about yet. Any guesses? See you then! Cece xox**


	32. I Am Willing

Chapter Thirty-Two: I Am Willing

It had been yet another long day. And, just like all the other days he had woken up to in the last few months, Lorlen was happy to see it end. As he entered his bedroom, he sighed for what was probably the one hundredth time that day- he had never wished his time away before. Yes, he found the office of Administrator hard-work and sometimes overwhelming, he had never denied that to himself, but in reality, he thrived on the slight chaos that he had to try to control. He suited the role of Administrator, he really did. But he wasn't thriving now. He was simply existing. The reasons for that were painfully obvious.

Lorlen just wanted his friend back.

But that was not going to happen, so there was no point getting morose about it. Angry at himself for even thining them, he tried to push the thoughts out of his mind as he changed into his bed clothes and hung up his robes in his wardrobe.

A flash of gold caught his eye as he did so. He looked into the darkened other side of the wardrobe, and noticed, probably for the first time in months, a set of robes he hadn't worn in years. For one thing, they were green, so no longer of use to him. But they were special, so he had kept them. On the breast of the right-hand side of the robes was the Guild's incal, neatly embroidered in gold thread. Reaching for the sleeve, he pulled out the robes so he could get a better view of them.

These were his old ceremonial robes, only worn at very important occasions. His mind went back, trying to remember the last time he had worn them. Then he remembered with a deep intake of breath. He had only worn them once. His knuckled tightened as his mind finally made the link. How could he have forgotten?

It had been at Akkarin's Ascension ceremony.

Lorlen quickly put the robes properly away again and shut the wardrobe door. Getting into bed, he extinguished his globe light and closed his eyes, desperately hoping that sleep would come to him quicker tonight than he had done in a long time.

It didn't, of course, and instead of his mind slowly drifting into a world of dreams, it pulled him back into the past, taking him back some six years.

 _Has it really been that long? Doesn't time fly when you're having fun…_

Lorlen had never seen the Guildhall so busy, before or since. It was a near perfect spring day, meaning the room was warm, but not comfortably so. Delicate rays of sunlight lit up the room like a thousand globelights, setting the jewels and precious metals worn by the multidute of guests sparkling. The mood was like that of an over-excited child- happy, chatty, not quite able to sit still, and Lorlen understood why.

There were only three occasions in which members of the Houses, besides the King, of course, were allowed to attend Guildhall meets. Acceptance Ceremonies, Graduation Ceremonies, and Ascension ceremonies- the swearing in of a new High Lord. Of course, the first two ceremonies were attended by the parents of the novices involved, but Ascensions were different. To receive an invitation to such an important event would be considered the highest honour, one they would be boasting about for the rest of their lives. Of all the people in the Allied Lands, you got to witness Guild history in action, to see another era in its prestigious existence begin.

Following the ancient custom, it had been some nine months since the old High Lord had passed away. Those months were divided into three equal parts: it took three months of mourning, three months of selection, and three months of preparation to arrive at this most vibrant of days. The Guild had mourned, the Guild had selected, and the Guild had prepared. Now, it was ready to celebrate.

As assistant to the Administrator, Lorlen was given a position that entitled him to an excellent view of the ceremony, though he had no official role in it. Sitting in the front row of magicians facing the front, he, like the vast majority of the hundreds of people in the room, simply watched on in humble awe as the ceremony, which had barely changed in the five hundred years it had first been used, took place. The old High Lord had held office for so long that very few people in the room had seen this ceremony before, and only had hazy memories of it if they had.

A hush suddenly fell over the hall as the sound of doors opening cut through the chatter. The members of the audience rose to their feet as three men entered through the great ceremonial doors. The first, slightly separate to the others, was the King. Merin looked every inch the King as he strode down the central aisle in full ceremonial garb, and seemed to enjoy watching the congration bow gracefully in a wave-like style as he passed each row. He climbed the stairs to the highest seat in the room. As he sat upon the throne, the Higher Magicians followed suit.

The next was the Administrator, looking the same as he ever did- solemn and tense. He walked up the aisle with stiffness showing his age. It only annoyed Lorlen ever so slightly that, despite the fact that he himself have done most of the preparation for today, the Administrator was getting all the glory. But he knew deep down that today was not about people, but offices. And it was the Office of Administrator that pronounced a new High Lord. Besides, perhaps he would get to enjoy such privileges in the future…

 _Oh, how little I knew. What a naive young idiot I was._

The final figure to pace down the aisle was a face that Lorlen knew as well as his own. He smiled to himself. He knew what agonies Akkarin must be in- he hated ceremonies. He hated them so much he had tried to get out of his own graduation- to no success, of course, his parents wouldn't hear of it. But, despite his chagrin, Akkarin looked poised, calm and, well, very High Lord-like. As he and the Administrator reached the front, they bowed to each other, then Akkarin prostrated himself before the Higher Magicians- a position to symbolise both humility and service.

"Your Majesty," the Administrator began, bowing to the King, "my Lords and Ladies,", nodding to his fellow magicians, "esteemed guests of the Magicians' Guild of Kyralia," looking to the other side of the hall, where the lay people were sitting.

"Nine months ago, our High Lord died. We have mourned his passing, and selected a candidate we believe to be worthy to take up the Office. I present to you Lord Akkarin, of the family Delvon, House Velan, the first of his name, as the Higher Magicians' chosen candidate to the position. Does any of my fellow magicians object to his taking the oath?"

The room feel eerily quiet, as hundreds of people held their breaths in unison. Not one of the mass of green, red and purple spoke.

 _Of course they didn't- they had no idea who they were selecting. I didn't know who I was selecting._

Akkarin had not been the expected choice. He had seemingly come out of no where, having been almost forgotten by most of the Guild whilst on his travels. Then, within a year of his return, he had made deep impressions with almost every magician of note. No small feet for a twenty five year old.

Finally, after a silence that seemed to last forever, the Administator turned to Akkarin. "Is my lord willing to take the oath?"

Akkarin gracefully rose from the ground to one knee. "I am willing."

He was then handed a card by one of the King's Guard, with the ancient words neatly embossed onto it. He didn't seem to need to reference it as he looked up and began his oath in a clear, calm voice.

"I, Akkarin, of Family Delvon, House Velan, the first of my name and Warrior of the Magicians' Guild of Kyralia, do solemnly swear to uphold all the laws and customs of this Guild. I do here renounce all family ties and conflicts, to hereby declare the Guild to be my Family, my House, and my Leigelord of life and limb, for me to defend against all manner of folks. I do here declare my allegiance to my King, King Merin, Ruler of Kyralia, the fifth of his name, and to the Allied Lands to which he and we, as his loyal subjects, belong. I declare this before you all, that the remaining days of my life, whether many of few, will be given in service to the Guild, and to the union of these Allied Lands."

"Will you guide with wisdom, with integrity and with courage?"

"I will."

"Will you see justice done, laws upheld and peace kept?"

"I will."

"Will you represent the Guild's values, both here, throughout Kyralia and throughout the Allied Lands?"

"I will."

"Then as the Administrator of the Magicians' Guild of Kyralia, it is my right and my priviledge to declare you High Lord Akkarin. You may rise." As Akkarin stood for the first time in the Guild's leader, the Administrator bowed to him. "Now come the days of a new High Lord. May they be prosperous for him and for us all."

Applause erupted around the room as Akkarin strode up the tiered seats, to the one just below the King's and, with a certain amount of reverence, lowered himself in the place of the High Lord. All the magicians, even the Higher Magicians, stood and, as one, bowed to their new leader. High Lord Akkarin simply nodded in reply. His eyes moved slowly over the crowd until they came to rest on Lorlen. His head tilted ever-so-slighty to one side as he smiled that famous crooked smile of his. It was a small gesture, too small for anyone else to notice but Lorlen knew exactly what it meant.

" _Well, looks like you were right, old friend."_

"I declare this Ascension ceremony concluded," the Administrator called above the din.

The image then began to fade as Lorlen's memory failed. Him. Once again he found himself in his bed, moonlight shrouding his room in an ethereal glow. He turned onto his back to stare at the ceiling, his heart full of sadness and regret.

Had he known it then? Had he lied in front of hundreds of people as he took up the highest office? Did he take a vow he had no intention of keeping? Then he frowned to himself. Or did he learn it later- did he seek the knowledge out to secure his powerful position. If only Dannyl had got the chance to get further with his research before we were caught out…Oh, enough!

Suddenly, he was painfully aware of how tired his mind was. Yes, being the Guild's day-to-day leader was exhausting, but there was nothing more exhausting than the guilt, confusion and hurt that every waking moment was no tinged with. It was like pulling a boulder behind his everywhere he went. The same thoughts, the same questions, went round and round his head on a constant loop, like an awful song he couldn't get out of his mind. No where was sacred- even his dreams were clouded with shadowed figures and curved knives. But, as with every night of the past few months, Lorlen hoped that tonight would be different. One last conscious thought went through his mind as sleep overcame it.

I just want my friend back.

 **Hi everyone, happy November! It's pretty chilly here in Bath, I hope you're all keeping warm (or cool, depending on where you are!) Now I just wanted to plug a recent film I saw at the cinema with my housemate- The Hate U Give. Oh my days, people, you NEED to see it. Right now. It blew my mind. And made me cry buckets. Seriously- go watch it, right now, even if it's 2am in your time zone. I'll stop banging on about it now and get back to studying** **Love, Cece xox**


	33. The Challenger

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Challenger

It had been a surprisingly good week, considering. As Akkarin looked out his library window and saw that the sun was already low in the sky, he considered how it was about to get even better.

Sonea's challenge to Regin had come as much as a surprise to him as it had to everyone else. Whilst that had irritated him for a couple of hours, he then realised he was rather enjoying how much the whole situation had stirred up the entire Guild, and decided to forgive her. For once, all the interest was directed at something other than himself, and that was always a good thing.

As he continued to look out the window, he saw a carriage roll up and stop outside. After a few seconds, a young alchemist got out, a satchel under one arm. The young man looked up at the building with not a little anxiety on his face, then headed quickly for the door. Akkarin's good mood sobered.

 _Ah, yes, Dannyl. I temporarily forgot that I have to deal with you._

Putting away the half-written letter he wasn't inclined to show Dannyl, Akkarin listened as he heard muffled voices below, then the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Then the steps of only one person carried on down the corridor.

"Welcome home, Ambassador Dannyl," Akkarin said as Dannyl came into view. The man in front of him was white as a sheet, but still remembered enough of his manners to bow and greet his leader politely. Stepping further into the room, Dannyl took the satchel from under his arm and gingerly placed it on Akkarin's desk.

Looking behind Dannyl, Akkarin saw Takan standing in the doorway, a questioning expression on his face. Akkarin gave the slightest of nods, and Takan pulled the doors shut. It would just his luck for some unfortunate to burst in, demanding an audience, just when he had a delicate conversation to negotiate. Sometimes it pays to be overly cautious. Dannyl appeared to gulp at the sound of the doors clicking together.

"My notes, as you requested," he explained, gesturing to the satchel, a faintest shakiness in his voice.

"Thank you. Sit down, you must be tired from the journey." Akkarin unbuckled the satchel and began to read. Silence settled over the room, except the squeak of Dannyl's chair as he shuffled in an uncomfortable patience.

The writing was good- very good. Almost too good. Like the author knew that this was going to be carefully read and therefore didn't want any glimpse of opinion or personal thoughts to come through the text. Nothing to suggest that this had been a task of espionage, rather than academia.

The Great Library. The Splendid Temple. The Tombs of White Tears. The exact order of his own journey. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Dannyl talked him through the research.

Honestly, Lorlen, how did you not expect me to notice something as obvious as this?

Then he paused, genuinely shocked.

"You survived?" he said, looking back up at Dannyl for the first time since he started reading. When Dannyl simply nodded, he wondered how they could be possible- he had nearly died, all those years ago, and he must have had double the strength that Dannyl had now. "Interesting," he murmured, more to himself than his companion. "Perhaps the chamber is losing strength." Perhaps, just as magicians lose strength as they age, perhaps curioisities like the chamber that have magical embued in them can lose strength too. Perhaps that was something to investigate further himself.

"May I ask a question?" Akkarin decided not to point out that, by asking that question, Dannyl had indeed asked a question, and went for a mild acquiescence instead. "If you had encountered this Chamber of Ultimate Punishment before, before, why didn't you tell anyone about it?"

 _Why am I suddenly having to justify my actions to everyone?!_

He gave another neutral response, but was now rather bored of this conversation. Dannyl was in no danger of, for the moment, at least, finding out anything that he shouldn't. It would cause more harm than good to stop him from carrying on now. Just one little thing nagged at him.

"Your assistant knows, does he not?"

Akkarin noticed the ever so slight hesistancy, the ever so faint flush that coloured Dannyl's face. "Yes, but I believe Tayend can be trusted."

That may be true, but what happens when someone threatens to reveal your relationship in order to get knowledge out of you?

He was about to say as much, and, it should be pointed out, was later very glad that he didn't, meaning he got to keep that little nugget of information secret for the future, but a knock at the door stopped him. As he swung the door inward, the familiar figure of Takan stood outside.

"Lord Yikmo has arrived, High Lord," the man said quietly, before bowing and walking away. Akkarin rose, and Dannyl swiftly followed suit.

"You may return to Elyne in a week," he said, hoping the Ambassador would take the time to rest, he didn't exactly look his best. "I will read these, and may wish to discuss them with you again. For now, I have a formal battle to attend."

The look of confusion on Dannyl's face matched that of everyone else Akkarin had encountered that week, which was one of the reasons it had been so amusing.

"A formal battle?"

"My novice has, perhaps foolishly, challenged another to a fight."

Dannyl's eyebrows rose even further, but he said no more. Leaving the library, Akkarin lead the way down the stairs to the first floor. He could feel the presence of alchemist behind him, who now seemed a deal more calmer than before. Perhaps that was because he was getting to leave, perhaps it was because he wasn't in trouble. But, most likely, perhaps it was because no awkward questions had been asked.

Akkarin had worked out the situation regarding Tayend pretty quickly- it wasn't exactly difficult. Put together Guild gossip, Elyne gossip and Dannyl's own thoughts and a pretty picture came into view. But Akkarin was not like other magicians, who would have been revolted. Well, maybe once upon a time he would have been, but his travels had shown him that, just as people speak many different languages and worship different Gods, love and attraction can occur in many forms, and it was not for one man to judge it.

Reaching Sonea's door, Akkarin knocked. The door was almost immediately pulled open. Sonea looked a little paler than usual, but she faced him calmly.

"High Lord, Ambassador Dannyl," she said, as if it were perfectly normal for the Second Guild Ambassador to Elyne to be standing outside her bedroom.

"Lord Yikmo has arrived," Akkarin told her. She took a deep breath, and nodded. As she moved past both of them to the staircase, Akkarin felt an unfamiliar twinge pull inside him. Recognising his own feelings of nervousness on her behalf, he felt a mild irritation at her- why was this girl, unimportant and uninteresting, to bring out feelings in him he hadn't experienced in a long time. First pride, now this. He was getting soft, and he hated that. Pushing the anxiety down, he followed the sound of voices in the hallway below.

"Your confidence in me is—" Akkarin heard Yikmo saying, before noticing his presence and stopping to bow. "High Lord, Ambassador Dannyl." With the usual formalities conducted,

The short walk to the Arena was incredibly quiet. Akkarin considered each of his companions. Dannyl seemed not a little confused by the whole situation, and seemed desperate to get away from his companions as soon as possible- fair enough. Yikmo was grave and tense, clearly having taken to heart the gravity of what his trainee was trying to do. And Sonea- she wasn't nervous as such, but thoughtful. She surprised him further when, just as the came into the sight of the Arena, a slight smile touched her lips. That smile quickly disappeared, though, when she saw the vast crows of people, all seemingly looking in their direction.

"Is everybody here?" she said, her voice losing some of her calmness.

"Probably," Yikmo said, now seeming to have gained the calmness she had lost. "Regin chose a Freeday to face you, so that there would be a large crowd to witness his defeat. Come, this way," he gestured in the direction of familiar faces. With a certain amount of trepidation, Sonea let herself be guided towards the Higher Magicians. She bowed gracefully as they nodded their heads at their leader.

"Good luck, Sonea," Lorlen said, trying to smile at her but failing miserably.

"Thank you, Administrator," she replied. Lorlen's eyes left hers and snapped to Akkarin's. A storm of anger and disbelief was barely hidden behind them. With his mind, Akkarin reached out to the ring on Lorlen's finger to speak though it.

 _-Is there something bothering you, Administrator?_

 _-You really are going to let her humiliate herself, aren't you? That's how little you care about her._

 _-You know what would be really nice? If you didn't presume to know all my motives._

 _-Like you now have access to all of mine._

Touche. Akkarin decided there was nothing to say to that.

"Sonea, your adversary awaits your pleasure," Balkan said solemnly. She nodded, and went to follow his gesture into the Arena. Just as she did, Yikmo reach out and grasped her arm. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her steadily.

"Keep your wits about you, and you'll be fine," he said softly. She smiled gratefully at him as he stepped away.

So now it was just the two of them, novice and guardian, challenger and protector, stepping into the arena in front of the hundreds of spectators. He supposed he ought to say something encouraging, something to show that he was rooting for her, but the words stuck in his mouth- he knew they would come out wrong, and she wouldn't appreciate it when they did. So he held his tongue, and hoped, somehow, she knew anyway.

Garrel and Regin were waiting on the other side of the Arena. Regin's smirk was to be expected, but Akkarin was truly shocked to see the look of pure digust on his uncle's face when he considered Sonea. What on earth could she have done to deserve that look? Well, put in a position of opposition to the High Lord, of course, but what Garrel was too stupid to realise was that he had been the master of his own destruction in that regard. If you agree to play a game, don't get upset when you lose. The point wasn't lost on Sonea. As she noticed the look, a rueful smile came across her face, and she didn't look away. Well, don't blame me, just look what you made me do, she said with it.

Balkan, who must have come in after them, came between the two pairs and raised his arms to silence the excited crowd.

 _Oh good grief, he's going to make a speech. Anything for a bit of limelight, eh, Balkan?_

As Balkan began a solemn history of challenges and the novices, Akkarin zoned out from the warrior's voice to focus on Sonea. She didn't seem to be listening very carefully either, her eyes being focused on Regin and the Arena. Considering her options, strategising and planning. Good- she wasn't rushing into this blindly. She knew if she was going to win, she couldn't just win. She needed to show she was smarter, harder, more creative and innovative than her adversary. In short, she needed to prove that the views of almost everyone currently watching her were completely wrong.

"…The combatants' guardians have nominated themselves as protectors. They may now form an inner shield around their novices."

With a gentlest and briefest of touches, Akkarin placed a hand on Sonea's shoulder to make the inner shield. Knowing a lot of magic was about to be used, he made it as strong as he could, to protect her from herself as much as Regin.

"The protectors may now leave the Arena," Balkan said once both inner shields were in place. Akkarin turned back the way he had come in, feeling Garrel's presence as he followed. As they reached the covered portal area, Garrel strode to walk in step with Akkarin.

"The very best of luck, High Lord," Garrel said, offering his hand. Akkarin took and shook it firmly.

"And to you, Garrel."

"I am sure the best novice will win."

"Oh, I am sure, seeing as this time she doesn't have to deal with you giving her adversary tips on how to thwart her, with dozens of other cowards to back him up."

"High Lord, I—" Akkarin moved to step in front of the warrior, stopping him. He stepped closer, taking pleasure in being able to look down at him with the same look of digust that Garrel had given Sonea just a few minutes earlier.

"If you're about to deny having any involvement in the harassment of my novice, I would strongly recommend you stop yourself, because to do so would be to lie. And lying to me is an act of treason, you do remember that? Oh, and if any, any, of this vile abuse you have actively encouraged to be doled out on Sonea carries on after today, no matter what happens in this fight, you and I will be having a little chat, mainly discussing your understanding of the Guild's ethics and values. Don't say I didn't warn you, Garrel, it's only your future on the line here, after all."

Garrel went white, then red. Akkarin stepped out of his way, gesturing for him to go first, and the warrior stalked out of the tunnel, anger sparking from his eyes. Akkarin fixed a confused expression to his face, and followed. As they took their places and waited for Balkan to start proceedings, Akkarin felt that now familiar twinge again.

 _Come on, Sonea._

 **Hello, you lovely lot! Firstly, to my US readers (I know there are a few of you), well done on your midterms! The balance of power is swinging back, so really well done, I am so happy for you. Now, one of you lovely guest reviewers (*blows kisses to all of you, you are so loved*) asked if I could write some more on A &L from pre-trilogy. I will certain endeavour to put some in, but as we're moving into the very end of TN, and THL is going to a very packed schedule (trust me, there will be A LOT to get through in 25 chapters), I can't promise huge amounts. If you would like some one-shots, perhaps with a particular storyline you'd like me to do, I could publish that separately? Let me know! Lots of love, Cece xox**


	34. A Warrior In Full

Chapter Thirty-Four: A Warrior In Full

He had never heard a silence quite so loud. It appeared that no one could quite believe what has just happened. The wind rushed through the arcs of the Arena, sending up what sounded like a bugle.

"Sonea has won the Challenge," Balkan boomed, his own voice carrying a hint of the surprise that his audience felt. Then the crowd, in its fickleness that would make you want to roll your eyes so far back you could see your own brain, erupted around him. A crowd will cheer any victor, Yikmo pondered, even one they disliked. Sonea was no less surprised, looking at her hands with a thoughtful expression before looking up to consider the applauding crowd with a look of sweet disbelief. I won, I actually won, the expression so clearly said. Yikmo wanted to run down to the Arena floor, to hug her, to pull her arm into the air so she could take the crowd's applause like the victor she was, but he knew that was the last thing she would want- she was probably already finding this excruciatingly embarrassing.

He felt a hand clapping him on the shoulder, bringing him back to himself. Well, almost.

"She did it, Yikmo! She actually managed to beat him, three bouts to two! Yikmo, Yikmo, can you hear me?"

Yikmo turned to look into the familiar eyes of the Administrator, who had a slightly concerned expression hidden behind his broad smile.

"Sorry, I just…well, I am speechless."

"Well, congratulations. She couldn't have done it without you."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I didn't exactly teach a lot of what she just did."

"No, but you taught her something more important," Lorlen said above the din, leaning closer so that Yikmo could hear him, "you taught her courage."

Yikmo looked away at that, considering Lorlen's words. He shook his head, disagreeing with them quite strongly. But he didn't want to be impolite to the Administrator, who was only trying to be complimentary, so he held his tongue, as took the words as the kindness they were meant to be.

This was something that Yikmo and Balkan fundamentally diagreed on, and was probably the reason why their teaching philosophies were so different. Balkan believed that as long as a novice was taught the tools that a warrior needed to win a fight, and was told that was all they needed to win, they would win. When a novice didn't win, the Head of Warriors said, it was because the novice didn't understand the tool, or they didn't trust the teacher to have taught them what they needed to know in order to win. Effectively, all the student needed was a bit of bravado, a bit of courage, to get them to victory. But Yikmo believed there was one final part. It was this final part was one that Balkan always forgot, or rolled his eyes at. It wasn't courage, exactly. It was something far more personal, far more engrained in one's own personality- self-belief. To be a warrior in full, you have to believe you are a warrior in full. You can tell a novice over and over until you are blue in the face that they have all the skill in order to do something, but until they believe it themselves, they will never be able to do it. I trust myself to be able to do this, a novice to be able to to say. After all, a student is not just a vessel made by a teacher to be filled. Each student brings with them their own skills and vices. Sonea had brought a lingering self-doubt, brought on by what she had seen in the Purge, but also her meticulous problem-solving abilities. Yikmo had hoped he had helped her deal with one and channel the other to her advantage. Now the evidence stood before him that she had.

He looked over Lorlen's shoulder to consider the other Higher Magicians, who were starting to congregate a few feet away. Vinara looked strangely pleased with herself, as if she had been the one to both suggest the Challenge and to win it. Clearly she was pleased that a young woman had managed to beat a man in a fight, missing the fact that this had had nothing to do with the compatants' sex. Peakin looked confused, like the last twenty minutes hadn't really made any sense to him- they probably hadn't. Sarin looked irritated- but then again, where was the surprise in that? And Akkarin, well, he looked as neutral as he ever did. He was looking towards his novice with a mild curiosity, as if he had been surprised by the skill she had just demonstrated. He had done nothing but support Sonea, quietly and in a non-direct way of course, for the past week, but had never seen her actually fight before. The faintest of small smiles crossed the man's face, then his eyes snapped to Yikmo's. Before Yikmo had the chance to look away, Akkarin nodded to him, and Yikmo knew that was the closest he would get to a thank you from the man. He nodded back, then looked to their their mutual interest. Sonea must have noticed his gaze, as she looked up, their eyes meeting across the sea of people. She smiled at him, the biggest smile he had ever seen her give.

-Thank you. Thank you for believing in me.

His smile widened as he chuckled, shaking his head. He crossed his arms across his chest and cocked his head at her.

\- Oh, Sonea, haven't you got it yet? It's not about what other people think. It's about what you think of yourself. I always believed you could do this. What I taught you was to believe that yourself. And it's been an honour to do so, so… thank you.

A look of dawning realisation passed across the young woman's face. Then her attention was drawn away by Lord Balkan, who was gesturing towards the other Higher Magicians. Yikmo could see members of the crowd start to look toward him, questioning looks on their faces. He realised that they would all want to know "how he had done it".

He turned to Lorlen and smiled ruefully. "I think I'm going to slip away, before it all gets a little…suffocating."

Lorlen looked surprised. "Oh, really? You don't want to get all the congratulations you deserve?"

"It is not me who needs to be congratulated, but that young woman over there," Yikmo nodded at Sonea, who was headed in their direction, "I'll let her have her moment. I'll be sure to see you soon, Administrator."

Jus as he turned to leave, Lorlen said to his back, "But they're going to ask me, the other Higher Magicians I mean, they're going to ask my why Sonea didn't just beat Regin outright? She's more powerful than him. She could have just pounded him with strikes until he exhausted himself, why didn't she?"

Yikmo considered, looking back to the mass of people, some of whom were getting disturbingly close. "Tell than that the point of all this was not for Sonea to win, but for Regin to lose." With that, he nodded his head to Lorlen, and slipped away through the side entrance to the Arena, politely ignoring all calls of his name.

He let the pride he felt for his student wash over him, like a refreshing shower of rain after a hot day. The sensation was only tinged by a faint sadness- now she had clearly demonstrated her Warrior Skills to be greatly improved, she would no longer need his training. Akkarin would probably decide to move her back to group classes, where she could learn more about combat by being tested against her classmates. Meaning he had run out of time with her. You might think that Yikmo would always feel this sadness at the loss of one of his students, but in all honesty, he didn't. Whilst he loved teaching, Yikmo didn't normally get 'attached' to his students- they were just that, students. But Sonea was…oh, she was just different. She was special. She was that rare thing- someone who found joy in learning new things, someone who didn't mind challenging herself and understanding her faults. She didn't take the opportunities handed to her here as mildly as the children from the Houses did, but revelled in them. When would another student come along to do the same thing? Not for quite a while, he presumed.

As he walked away, enjoying the peace he found as he got further away from the Arena, he had to tell himself it was time- it was time for her to take this new found belief in herself and learn how to use it. It was time for her to become the magician she was clearly born to be. After all, he had to remind himself, the hardest part of love is in the letting go.

 **So I have an apology to make to one of my reviewers, Miyuki5, who asked me to write this (and the Challenge) from Akkarin's perspective. As you can see, I didn't do that, because I really wanted to do this. I LOVE Yikmo- he such an undervalued character. I wanted to give him a voice. I also wanted to write about the importance of "self-belief", which became the theme of this chapter. It's such a hard thing to do, something I struggle with on a daily basis, but self-belief is so important. So here I am, sending you all self-belief in everything you do- I believe in you!**

 **However, Miyuki55, if you wanted to read this from Akkarin's POV, have you read 's "There Is Always Another Perspective"? She covers that in her EPIC fic. If you haven't read it anyway, you just need to go do it. It's utterly sublime. I swear you won't be disappointed.**

 **One more chapter on The Novice, eek! Love Cece xox**


	35. An Unexpected Assassin

**A/N: Hi! Just another quick warning that this chapter will contain some violence. It is not gratuitious, but if you think a description of a violent act might upset or trigger you, please look after yourself and skip to the next chapter! C xox**

Chapter Thirty-Five: An Unexpected Assassin

The temperature in the tunnels was definitely colder than when Akkarin had first set out a few hours before. As he returned to his Residence, disappointed and irritated with himself, he tried to calm his thoughts. He had failed to capture slaves before on his first attempt, when they were strong and he didn't know their weaknesses. But that didn't stop him thinking that, every time he failed, he let more innocent slum-dwellers meet their end, and in one of the most ghastly ways imaginable.

A crash, like the sound of breaking glass, cut through his thoughts like a razor. The yelp of a familiar voice sent a jolt of fear through him and had him racing down the rest of the way down the tunnel. He realised that the door to the passages was open. Neither he nor Takan would ever do something so careless, so it must have been someone else.

Lorlen, come snooping? No, he didn't know the passages.

Sonea, then, with her map? No, she was in classes, and even her courage had limits. She had taken his threat about not using the tunnels seriously and had not entered them since, much to his relief.

That left one possibility- the slave.

Once Akkarin had reached the doorway, he slowed, and kept his footsteps light, not wanting to alert the intruder to his presence.

"Where is he?" A man growled in sachakan.

"As if I'm going to tell you that," Takan replied. Akkarin's heart squeezed at the defiance in his servant's voice- what had he done to deserve such loyalty?

"Look, I don't want to hurt you- alright? You and me, we're the same."

"Oh, we absolutely are _not_ the same."

"But if you get in the way of me getting to _him,_ I will do whatever is necessary to….remove you."

Akkarin chose this moment to step into the light of the doorway. "Oh, you will, will you?" he breathed, the sachakan he had learnt all those years ago coming back to him with ease. The slave whipped round to face him, a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. "What a pity I have spoiled this for you, such bravery certainly should not go unnoticed."

The slave lunged at Akkarin, who easily side stepped. The slave, unable to control his movement, only stopped when he smashed into a cabinet- the cabinet doors were flung open with the force, and some of the glass utensils inside fell onto the floor with a smash. Akkarin sighed irritably.

"Will you please stop doing that? You've already made plenty of mess in here."

The slave glared at him menacingly, and reached for the knife at his belt. Akkarin sensed him creating a magical strike, and placed a shield in front of himself and Takan. "Oh, I really wouldn't," he warned. But the slave, whose mind held a toxic mix of terror and hubris, didn't heed the advice. Because the force strike was so close to Akkarin by the time it reached his shield, all he had to do was change the shield subtly so it would bounce the strike back towards the slave. The slave's wide eyes showed he had not been prepared for this, and didn't have time to put up his own shield before the strike struck him. As he collapsed to the floor, Akkarin strode over and grabbed the slave roughly. He slammed the man down against the table in the centre of the room, inwardly wincing at the sound of one of the man's ribs breaking at the contact. The man spit in his direction, a mixture of saliva and blood making contact with Akkarin's boot.

"Kariko says he has all the aces, slave," he wheezed.

Akkarin lifted the man by the rough collar of his shirt, making his feet kicking uselessly in the air, and looked him dead in the eyes.

"Which is a pity, seeing as I'm not playing cards." As he brought the knife to the man's throat, the man wailed pitifully, like a beaten dog. It only made him hesitate for a second before bringing the knife across the man's throat. "And if it's true you have all the aces, then you can afford to raise the stakes," he hissed, feeling the blood being squeezed through his fingers. "Stop sending boys to do your dirty work, Kariko. Or I'll be forced to assume you're a coward." Just before the light in the young man's eyes faded, Akkarin saw a spark of anger in them, which seemed to come from some far off place. Then he slumped in Akkarin's grasp, and he let the man's weight fall to the floor. He looked down at the corpse, and his own blood stained hands in disgust. _How many more times am I going to have to do this? How many more times_ can _I do this?_

He heard Takan cough slightly, and he looked up- to see his novice standing in the door way. Once again, she had seen far more than she should. What was it about her that gave her such a gift for espionage?

"Sonea," he all but shouted, "come here."

Her white face shook. But Akkarin was not in the mood to be polite. He created a barrier behind her back and started to push gently against it. He heard Takan sigh slightly.

 _-Master, is that really necessary?_

But Akkarin ignored him. Just as he thought she would, Sonea didn't let the barrier trip her forwards. Instead, she set her shoulders straight proudly and walked down the stairs, a grim but defiant expression on her face. As she reached the bottom, he slammed the door shut, and Sonea tensed again. Her eyes seemed to be magnetically pulled to the slave's, and she stared at him, fists clenched in horror.

"This man is -was- a assassin," he explained softly. "He was sent to kill me."

Sonea looked dubious, and her eyes shifted from the body to Takan. Sensible.

"It's true," Takan, forever loyal, said earnestly. "Do you think the m- The High Lord would mess up his own rooms?"

She took in the cluttered room, and it seemed to satisfy. Then she looked back at the body, and gave Takan a curious quick glance. Akkarin nodded, pleased she had worked that one out for herself.

"Yes, he and Takan are of the same people. Sachakan."

Her eyes met his for the first time since entering the room. "Why did you kill him? Why not hand him over to the Guild?"

"Because, as you've no doubt guessed, he and his kind know much about me that I'd rather the Guild did not."

"So you killed him with…with…?" She swallowed thickly.

"With what the Guild calls black magic. Yes," he finished for her. He took a step toward her. "I have never killed anyone who did not mean me harm, Sonea."

She gave him a look that was curiously similar to the thought that was going through his own head.

 _Why are you trying to justify yourself to_ me _?_

 _Why are you trying to justify yourself to_ her _?_

There _was_ an answer to that question. But it was not yet visible, not yet born. Like a butterfly waiting to emerge from a cocoon. It was too early for either of them to understand. Neither of them would know the answer for quite a while yet, so let's not get ahead of ourselves by voicing it.

He sighed. This was _not_ supposed to happen. Believe it or not, it had never been his intention to frighten Sonea more than necessary. He had never planned on her seeing him kill. "He would be satisfied, indeed, if he knew the harm he has done by coming here and causing you to see what you have seen." The paused, trying to guess what thoughts were going through her head. "You must be wondering who these people are, why they want me dead, and what their reasons are. I can only tell you this: the Sachakans still hate the Guild, but they also fear us. From time to time they send one of these, to test me. Do you really think it unreasonable of me to defend myself?"

A look of resolute contempt crossed her face- no, she was not ready to accept that what he was doing might not be completely wrong, and that was fair enough. He would have probably acted the same way in her position. Now was not the time or the place to try to assuage her fears- with a dead body literally between them and its blood on his hands.

He sighed again, deciding to give up for one night. There was nothing he could say that would make the slightest difference to her at this point. "It doesn't matter if you believe me or not, Sonea." His eyes then snapped to hers. Only remember that, if you speak a word of it to anyone, you will bring about the destruction of everything you hold dear."

She glared back, for once not breaking the eye contact between them. "I know, I understand the concept of blackmail- you don't have to remind me."

With that, she fled.

Akkarin slammed the door behind her with magic and sat heavily.

"At least the murders will stop," Takan said softly behind him.

Akkarin sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "For now, until the next one comes." _And the one after that, and the one after that._

A pause. "She is as intelligent as they say, Master."

"Yes."

"And winning the Challenge, as powerful too."

Akkarin looked at his servant. "Where are you going with this, Takan?"

Takan looked Akkarin back in the eye levelly. "She could be a worthy ally."

Akkarin stared at his servant, genuinely shocked. He shook his head slowly. "What?"

"I'm pretty sure you heard me."

"Oh, I did, I'm just questioning your sanity."

"But—"

"I made a promise."

"Which does not apply in this situation."

"I will not put any one else in this much danger. By the Eye, Takan, he almost killed you. What if it had been her? Can you _imagine_ what one of them would do to her? In fact, you shouldn't need to imagine, we've both seen it countless times already. Suffice to say that her death would be a blessed relief!" He realised he was almost shouting as he finished.

"They could do that anyway, whether or not she understands what is going on. But the difference is she already knows so much."

"But not all."

"Master—"

"I can't believe we're even having this conversation."

"But we are. And you should consider it. She has the intellect to grasp the situation, and the strength to be of help to you."

Akkarin slammed down his fist on the table and glared at his servant. "No. And you are to never bring this conversation up again, do you understand? Yes, she is powerful, clever and would probably understand what we are doing given the right information, but her innocence is not to be tampered with. Do you understand?"

Takan's gaze didn't waver. He didn't answer the question, but asked one instead. "What happens to the Guild if you die, Master, without telling anyone about the Ichani?"

"They're doomed."

"Then you should be able to work out that someone else needs to know. No one is exactly going to believe me, or your thief friend, so it should be someone of the Guild. It needs to be someone who already knows so as not to spread the truth too far unnecessarily. That leaves three people- Lorlen, Rothen and Sonea. You don't trust Lorlen- no, don't interrupt, you don't, otherwise you would have told him everything already. Rothen might be trustworthy, but wouldn't be particularly useful. Sonea-" Takan sighed. "Sonea is your last chance."

Akkarin let out a deep, shuddering breath. He drummed his fingers on the table and gave in-slightly. "Alright. Alright. I will consider it again- _only_ consider it, mind, once she has learnt a little more." He was quiet a few moments, thinking through the university curriculum. "Third year will teach her more about shaping stone, and about how magic can be transferred through different objects. Those will teach her the basics required for understanding black magic. I will see how close she gets to…the truth then. Then I will _consider_ telling her more. But not a word of this until then."

"Yes, Master."

 **And that's a wrap on The Novice! Phew, thank you to everyone who is still with me! And thank you to everyone who reviewed/ followed/ favourited, it really helps me stay motivated, every single one. Now it's time for the "The High Lord"…in the words of Taylor Swift, are you ready for it? (*beat drops and I start dancing awkwardly*) I know I am! Not going to lie, I have had some bits of this written for MONTHS as notes on my phone, I can't wait to share them with you! See you next week! Love, Cece xox**


	36. She Is Ready

Chapter Thirty-Six: "She Is Ready"

In ancient Kyralian poetry, one of the most famous verses tells the story of a place called 'Camelot'. I say famous, but no one can actually remember who wrote the lines in the first place. Some people thought, because of this, that Camelot had once been a real place. That the words were less of a story and more biography. I will leave that for you to decide.

In the poems, Camelot was a great city, but instead of being built on hierarchy like all modern cities are, it was built on equality. Everyone, rich and poor, important and insignificant, was treated with the same values, respect and dignity. Everyone's story was listened to, every decision fairly evaluated, by a just and worthy ruler. Things weren't wrong just because they were "wrong"- in Camelot, things are wrong based on sound reasoning, not blind fear.

At the end of the epic, Camelot fails, as of course it was bound to. Remember, ideals are just that, ideals. Reality is far more challenging than the beautiful picture of how things should be that we draw in our heads. But the poet clearly found it hard to say goodbye to the city, and mourns its passing, whether fictitious or real.

 _Don't let it be forgot,_

 _That once there was a spot,_

 _For one brief shining moment_

 _That was known as Camelot._

You might be wondering why I am telling you all this. I suppose it won't make sense right now, but it will. Remember all this, will you, as we start on the final leg of our story?

Let me take you, once again, to Kyralia. Specifically, Imardin. More specifically, the Magicians' Guild. Even more specifically, the grand three-storey pale building that stood proud and alone on the edge of the Guild gardens, on a warm evening in late summer. We've been away a year.

A year had passed in the briefest blink of an eye, the simplest turn of a page. A year that was, for the High Lord, not very unlike any other year. The Guild was its usual childlike self- eager, excitable, but also needing a lot of guidance. Three more slaves had entered the city since the night that Sonea had witnessed Akkarin killing one. Two and had been far more easily dealt with, and Akkarin was currently waiting for a good moment to deal with the third. Nothing more sinister had happened than that, but Akkarin felt the crescendo of events swiftly catching up with him like watching ominous black clouds moving across the sky in his direction. Soon, he knew a storm would be break, and it would be so large he wouldn't be able to get out of its way.

Oh, and of course there were the rebels in Elyne. For several years, they had simply been amusing, and he had watched them in the same way that a child might watch a puppet show. But now things had got more serious, now their attempts to learn magic outside the influence of the Guild had become successful. Luckily, Akkarin had just the right man in just the right place for the job. Dannyl. What do you do when you want someone to divest their deepest secret to you? Tell them your own, of course. He knew both Dannyl and Tayend were probably livid, but, he had to be honest with himself, he didn't care. He saw it as a debt paid- he had kept silent on his knowledge of their secret relationship, which according to Guild tradition he shouldn't do, not they could use it to help him. After all, there's no such thing as a free dinner.

And Sonea, you ask? Sonea had had a quiet year. Now that the harassment from Regin and his sycophants had ended, and now that some of her fellow novices were even going so far as to extend friendship to her, Akkarin noticed a level of peace about her eased his guilt a little. She still clearly disliked being his hostage, and had for several months been even more edgy around him after the unexpected assassin had entered the residence, but she had…adjusted. They were never destined to be friends, but perhaps they weren't destined to be the ruin of the other.

 _Or at least I hope so_ , he thought, as he patiently waited for her in the Guestroom, with only a rather dull book to distract him. She wasn't late, not yet, but it had been a long day and he was heartedly looking forward to his dinner. He wasn't regretting his decision to have Sonea dine with him once a week, it gave him the opportunity to ensure her wellbeing for himself, but sometimes it did involve a wait. Eventually, the familiar creak of the front door opening reached his ears, and he let out a soft sigh of relief. He rose quickly, dropping the book onto the table next to him, and turned to greet his novice.

"High Lord," she bowed, as polite and to-the-point as ever. She continued to impress him with her neutrality in the face of what must intimidate her- in years to come, she could easily be a diplomat or ambassador of some kind- not that he would be able to give the opportunity, unfortunately.

They made their way to the dining room, where as Takan was waiting. Akkarin gave Sonea a moment to settle herself, before starting his usual selection of neutral questions- questions that she would have no trouble answering, but questions that also held enough detail so that they could hold a conversation between them. The last thing either of them needed was a cold, dead silence, lying between them like the dead slave had.

"What did you study today?" he began.

"Architecture- construction methods," she replied almost immediately, clearly having expected the question.

 _Tap._

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Shaping stone with magic?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She nodded once in reply. "Yes."

 _Tap._

He considered the best way to ask her about it as chose food from the platters that Takan had brought in. So, they had finally arrived at _this_ point.

"Did you find it difficult or easy?"

Sonea pursed her lips as she thought. "Difficult at first then easier- it's not unlike healing," she said slowly.

 _Tap, tap, tap!_

Akkarin studied her- what she had just said was a leap in thinking he had not been expecting. Did _she_ understand what she had just said? "Indeed," he continued, unable to keep surprise out of his voice this time. "And how is it different?"

She finished the mouthful of food she was eating before answering him. "Stone does not have the natural barrier of resistance that the body has. It has no skin."

 _Well if that didn't get your attention, I give up,_ the voice in the back of his mind seemed to say. That voice was right. What she had worked out, and all on her own, was…extraordinary. The links between shaping stone and healing were only made clear to _him_ when he had been exposed to the kind of magic that linked the two, the same way that Coren had made the link all those centuries ago. Sonea had just overtaken them. It would be embarrassing, if it hadn't been fascinating.

"That's true," he agreed, reaching for his wine glass, "but something like a barrier can be created if…"

 _-Master?_

 _-Takan?_

 _-We've just had a messenger come the back way. He said he'd like you come meet an old friend from home._

Akkarin wanted to groan, to run his hands over his face, even slam his cutlery down in frustration, but no, that wouldn't do. He wouldn't let them make him lose his composure. Plus there was Sonea to think about. It just seemed so unnecessarily cruel of the world to give him a long day and a Sachakan slave to complete it. He felt Takan's mind patiently waiting for a response.

 _-Ah. I had better do that then. Sorry about dinner, I know you spent a lot of time on it._

 _-Nothing to forgive master- besides, now you have a novice to feed, your missed meals aren't completely wasted. I'll be downstairs._

When he gaze came back to the room, he noticed Sonea watching him with thinly veiled curiosity.

"I have a meeting to attend," he explained briefly as he rose from his chair. "Enjoy the rest of the meal, Sonea." Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she didn't say anything as he left the room. _An old friend from home,_ how very inappropriate that phrase was. But encrypted messages were what was making Ceryni's dealings with the slaves so clever. No one knew exactly what was going on, accept Akkarin himself.

He descended to the very bottom of the house, where he found Takan waiting with his cloak, dagger and lantern.

"Did I hear you talking about stone-shaping up there, Master?" he asked, holding out the cloak, which Akkarin took from him.

"You may well have," Akkarin said, swinging it around himself and fastening the clasp.

Takan was silent for a moment, then he took in a deep breath, and Akkarin instinctively knew what was coming. "I remember us having a conversation just over a year ago." He held out the dagger in its scabbard, and Akkarin belted it on.

"Takan, now is really not the time."

"Why not? You have a new slave in the city. She is starting to learn the basics of what is required in order to help you. Look me in the eye and tell me you weren't surprised by how much she has already put together."

Akkarin looked at his servant, and sighed. "No, I can't." He took the lantern from his servant and, with the briefest touch of magic, set the wick alight. But Takan wasn't going to be as easily dealt with.

"Start subtly, then. If you get a bad reaction from her, or she doesn't seem to understand you can always stop, with no harm done. She is ready, master."

Akkarin looked into Takan's amber eyes, and wondered if, even after all these years, he reall knew the man standing in front of him. "You really are a schemer, aren't you?"

Takan smiled sardonically. "I'm trying to keep us all alive."

Akkarin sighed, and realised he had run out of options. He had run down a cul-de-sac and there enemy was fast approaching. He knew that, with every passing year, Kariko will be gathering more and more followers. His idea that the Guild didn't know Black Magic would be growing in validity the more that Akkarin dealt with the slaves that he sent alone- and those slaves were getting stronger and cleverer. The odds were stacked against him, but he wasn't in a position to call in a loss and walk away from the table. The only way he was going to survive, the only way that the _Guild_ was going to survive, was by getting additional support. "Well, I can't disagree with anything you've said. I will _not_ be taking her with me, or anywhere near this one if I can possibly help it, but perhaps she is ready to know more. Perhaps I can suggest to her that black magic wasn't always the hidden subject that it is today. Will that satisfy you?"

Takan nodded. "For now."

 _And so the fate of the Guild rests in the unknowing hands of a nineteen year old novice from the slums. Not exactly a promising start._

Akkarin lifted the lantern and headed for the door at the back of the room, the one that led into the underground passages. "And now, I need to be gone. Keep an eye on her for me, will you? She might be frightened- you know, after…the incident."

Takan nodded. "Of course. Good hunting master."

Akkarin smiled wryly at him, opened the door, and felt the cold child of the tunnels against his skin. He stifled a weary sigh, stepped down into the darkness, and headed into the city. _Will it ever end?_

 **Welcome to Book Three, everyone! Firstly, acknowledgements- The verses are from the Final Ultimo of the musical called, you guessed it, 'Camelot'. It has a fascinating political history, but I will leave you to research that on your own. Secondly, I should you let you know that a) I have a LOT of deadlines coming up (ergh), so these chapters may not be as regular as I would like, and b) I am planning on some of these chapters being longer than any I have written before, simply because I have a lot I want to cover! That means that, whilst you'll get more content, it may take me longer to write. Swings and roundabouts, I suppose! Love to you all, Cece xox**


	37. Missed Opportunities

Chapter Thirty- Seven: Missed Opportunities

There are different kinds of time, Regin had decided a while back.

First, there's holiday time, where the hours rush by in a blur because you're having so much fun. One moment you're winning a boat race on the river behind your parents' manor house, the next your in a carriage on the long journey back to Imardin.

Then there's waiting room time, where the minutes tick by ever so slowly, as if wanting to punish you for ending up in whatever bizarre position you have found yourself in.

Time spent in the Novices' Library very much ends up being in the latter category, and it was draining Regin today. Nothing was sinking in, and nothing he was studying seemed to have any relevance for the work he wanted to do in later life. Still, he had found a way of distracting himself, however, as he tried to work out a ridiculously complicated formula in his chemistry textbook. But he also knew if he stared for too long that he'd be caught, either by her or by someone else, but he found he couldn't look away.

He watched with quiet fascination as Sonea curled a strand of hair methodically round her finger as she read from the book in front of her. A small frown creased her brow. Then, all of a sudden her expression brightened, like the sun coming out from behind heavy cloud. She straightened slightly, a slight smile replacing the frown as she understood the meaning of the words in front of her. She picked up her pen and started writing quickly. As she did, flash of something gold sparkled in the light that the bright globelights around the ceiling emitted. Regin realised quickly it was the Guild incal on her sleeve that had reflected the light, the incal denoting her the favourite novice of the High Lord.

Brown robes momentarily blocked his view of her. Then the novice came round to stand beside her. She looked up at him, a gentle smile once again brightening her features. Regin recognised the newcomer as Seno, and felt a pang of jealousy. He got to stand there and make her laugh, of course hidden behind a hand so Jullen wouldn't see, whilst he was relegated to simply watching at a distance. She kept her focus on Seno as they talked briefly. He gestured towards the doors, and she smiled apologetically, gesturing to the book in front of her. He nodded and only said a few more words which she smiled at, before patting her on the arm and striding to the door. Sonea didn't watch him leave, but she didn't immediately get back to her work either. She curled the edge of the page of her textbook between her fingers as the same thoughtful frown that had creased her brow as before returned, then the slightest of blushes bloomed on her cheeks. She shook her head to herself, adjusted herself in her chair and began working again, it occurred once again to Regin then, as he put his chin on his hand and studied her, that she really was rather beautiful.

He thought back to the first time that thought has crossed his mind. He remembered seeing her looking down at him in concern as he had woken from unconsciousness after the Challenge. A soft, yet wilful as ever, look in her dark eyes. Stray hairs that had been pulled from her braid as she had fought him framed her face, their darkness contrasting perfectly with the paleness of her skin. There had even been a questioning apology in her gaze. What was she trying to say? He remembered her leaning down, and the gentlest of touches sending healing energy flowing through him like balm. And goodness me, no one had ever looked more beautiful to him than she had done in that moment. And the thought had terrified him. It had felt like a betrayal of everything he had ever understood and believed in. It felt like turning his back on the very basis of who he was. But then suddenly, all at once, it didn't matter anymore. All at once, this moment was enough.

Then she straightened, bowed gracefully he assumed to a nearby magician, and walked away quietly, peacefully. She had won, and yet she wasn't gloating. What was the point in her starting this whole thing if it wasn't to gloat?! Then, as Garrel had hauled him to his feet, hissing words of disappointment and chagrin in his ear, he realised what this was all about all along. And he realised what she had been trying to silently communicate to him earlier.

 _Sorry, but you just_ had _to lose._

A rap on the desk sprung his mind forward a year, and he realised that Jullen was observing him, an unimpressed expression set in his steel grey eyes. Regin looked down apologetically, picked up his pen and brought his mind back to his textbook. He had been right- if he stared for too long, he would be caught. But even though Jullen had managed to bring Regin's thoughts back to the present, he hadn't been able to get Regin's thoughts from Sonea.

 _How did I ever consider her an outsider?_ She was everything that the Guild considered worthy: intelligent, resourceful, brave.

 _How did I ever consider her unworthy to be the High Lord's favourite?_ She had earned her right to be just that, and more, than anyone else here.

 _How did I ever consider her just a girl from the slums?_ She wore that title like a badge of honour. It made her who she was. That intelligent, resourceful, brave girl he had completely underestimated.

He shook his head to himself as he finally pushed the thoughts away and returned to his studies- this was no longer amusing, it was frustrating and depressing. What a mistake he had made. And what opportunities he had missed.

Still, the things we lose have a tendency to find their way back to us…in the end.

 **So something I would like to do in the final section of my story is to promote the work of other authors on this site, preferably on this page. If you have read any good stories (or even WRITTEN any good stories), I would love to hear about them, read them, and if I like them I will give them a shout-out. My first recommendation has to be to the lovely "Shards and Splinters" fic by MyThoughtsAreConstellations. Jo has recently updated her story, which is so beautifully and innovatively written. I have followed it, so do give it a look on my profile. Looking forward to hearing about your favourite stories! FINALLY, a shoutout to Ygrette (love the name!) who has been doing some amazing reviewing of some of my oldest chapters. Thank you so so much for all of them, there are so many I can't respond in person! As much love as ever, Cece xox**


	38. Chinks In The Armour

Akkarin began, of course, with Coren's diary. Where else would be a place to start than with the slightly-crazed musings of a young man who brought about a revolution by the actions of a sin? Sonea had taken the small book in her hands with the embers of curiosity in her dark eyes. Those embers were fanned into flames of amazement as she read the title and realised what she was holding. As he had left his library and called Takan away, he turned back to watch her, hunched over the book, eyes never leaving the text.

When he asked her about it at their next dinner, a defensive look came into her eyes. She described what she had read in clipped tones, only acknowledging Coren's use of black magic when pressed. Clearly the account had had some impact on her, otherwise she would have been able to meet his eyes more whilst talking about it.

"So, she understood," Takan said after she had left and Akkarin was left alone to nurse his wine glass, "what now?"

So then Akkarin moved on to the account of Tagen, this time bringing the books to her room now he knew she had the ability to be discrete. Sonea's face had been one of unsuppressed horror when she found him stood in her doorway. He made a very conscious decision not to enter her room- he was not going to invade her personal space- well, not again. She had looked dubious when he had explained the two copies, but took them none the less. As he turned away from the room, he heard her voice, small but incredulous.

"Why are you showing me these books?" He couldn't stop himself turning to stare at her in curiosity. She had never spoken first before. What had made her start now?

"You want to know the truth, do you not?" It wasn't really a question, they both knew the answer without it being spoken. As Akkarin padded down the corridor and made his way to his bedroom, he silently thanked whatever Gods there really were for the natural curiosity of the young.

Now, as he strode down the darkened tunnel, hearing the gentle patter of her footsteps behind his own, he knew this was beyond feeding her curiosity. This was a part of a campaign to recruit her. A part of him was sickened by his actions, another part of him was desperate to share. Desperate to share the weight that had sat solely on his shoulders for so long. Desperate to let another person know, desperate to confess.

Eventually, they came across the guide that Akkarin had been expecting to find. Akkarin thought he recognised him, but he had had so many guides now it was getting difficult to remember them all. The man nodded to him stiffly, then noticed the figure behind. The man stared at Sonea, then back at Akkarin. Any objections stalled in the man's throat, as he quickly turned and led them through the passages.

Eventually, after many twists and turns and more foul smells than Akkarin cared to think about, the man led them to a door, nodded swiftly again, and retreated into the darkness. Akkarin knocked on the door. He could hear Sonea's quick breath behind him.

A familiar man opened the door. Morren bowed his head respectfully, then his gaze, like the guide's, slipped to Sonea. Then he seemed to remember himself, and stepped out of the doorway so his visitors could enter. As he entered, he immediately sensed the power wafting from the shield he had put up around the slave he had tied up only hours earlier.

"He's awake," Morren said tightly. Clearly the man was none to happy about having a prisoner. Well, that would soon be dealt with. But not before the slave had made himself useful. But how best to approach this?

"Thank you for watching him, Morren," he said softly, considering the options he had. Morren replied, but he was too deep in his own thoughts to hear what was said. He wanted Sonea to see what the slave was doing from his own thoughts. That meant having her in his presence- but what about his bloodgem?

"Did you find a red gem on him?" he asked Morren.

"No, searched him good, found nothing."

That meant that blood gem was in more…personal space than usual. Lovely. "Very well," he replied. "Stay here. This is Sonea. I will send her out in a while."

" _The_ Sonea?"

Akkarin managed to not roll his eyes. Why did everyone still have this fascination with her? It was getting ridiculous. He was suddenly reminded of a conversation that he and Lorlen had had about her, years ago now. The memory brought a pang of sadness.

"Yes, the living, breathing legend," he replied.

"Honoured to meet you, my lady," Morren said to Sonea. Akkarin didn't look at her, but could hear the surprise in her voice when she replied.

"Honoured to meet you too, Morren."

Morren seemed to finally put of the inevitable, and went to unlock the great wooden door. Immediately Akkarin put up another shield around himself and Sonea, and was met with the rather pathetic sight of the slave-turned-black magician tied to a wooden table.

First things first, where was the blood gem? Striding to the table, Akkarin put his hands on the man's temples and sent his mind forth. His mind easily wafted into the slave's, despite the man's attempts to evade him. Soon the answer to his question became clear. Well, it could be in a much worse place. Carefully pulling the man's mouth open, it took little effort to find the gold tooth and to extract it, dropping it to the floor. To his slight surprise, the man chuckled.

"They have seen your woman now, Kariko says she will be his after he kills you."

 _Well at least he knows he will have to kill me first. Saves me the trouble of telling him myself._

Akkarin lowered himself slightly to look into the man's eyes. "What a pity neither you nor I will be alive to see him try that." He then stamped down on the gold, making the man wince at the sudden noise.

He straightened, and looked back at Sonea. She was watching the scene before her with wide eyes, eyes that were full of terror and not a little confusion.

"Sonea," he said softly, and her eyes snapped to his. Interesting, she found him the easiest thing to look at, did that mean he was least terrifying part of this for her? "I have brought you here to answer some of your questions. I know you will not believe me unless you see the truth for yourself, so I have decided to teach you something I never intended to teach anyone. It is a skill that can too easily be abused, but if you—"

"No!" she interrupted, staring at him as if he were mad. "I will not learn—"

Akkarin realised his error. He supposed he had been a little vague. "I do not mean black magic," he corrected. "I would not teach you that, even if you were willing. I wish to teach you how to read minds."

"But…" Sonea's voice trailed off as she considered this. She looked away, and he could see in her face her mind was working quickly. She then looked back at him, a challenge in her eyes. "Why?"

"As I said, I want you to know the truth for yourself. You would not believe me if I told you. I would not trust you with this secret if I did not know you have a strong sense of honour and morality. Even so, you must vow to never use this method of mind reading on an unwilling recipient unless Kyralia is in great danger, and there is no other course of action."

Sonea's eyes narrowed at him. "You expect me to restrict my use of it as you say, you have not yourself?"

Akkarin chose not to defend himself against that remark. "Yes. Will you make the vow, or shall we return to the Guild now?"

They were silent for a while as she pondered. Akkarin thought he ought to be pleased, she was taking the vow seriously, but at the same time he just wanted her to make up her mind. He just wanted to show someone what he had been having to go through for so many years.

Her eyes had strayed to the captive. He stared back at her, but she didn't flinch or look away. Instead, she looked at him with curiosity. Then slowly, she finally spoke again.

"You would have me vow to never read a mind unless Kyralia was in danger, yet you want me to read his. Surely he is not a threat to Kyralia."

 _Takan was absolutely right. She really would make a worthy ally_.

"He isn't now," he answered. "But he was. And his claims that his master will enslave you after he kills me should prove there a possible future threat. How can you know whether his master is capable of it, if you do not read his mind?"

She narrowed his eyes at him. "With that reasoning, you could justify reading the mind of anyone who made a threat."

 _I'm not going to tell Takan she said that. He'll be saying 'I told you so' until the end of his days._

"Which is why I require you to make that vow. You will not use this skill unless there is no other choice." As much as her mental jousting with him was entertaining, even gratifying, it was time to get an answer from her. "There is no other way I can show you the truth- we, not without putting your life at risk. Will you make the vow?"

One last pause, and then, finally, she slowly nodded. She looked at his expectantly. There was no way she was getting away with just that. He looked back at her with the same look she had given him. An expression of mild irritation passed over her face, then she spoke in a cool, calm voice.

"I vow to never read the mind of an unwilling person unless Kyralia is in great danger and there is no other way of avoiding that danger."

He nodded his approved. "Good. If I ever discover you have broken that vow, I will make sure you regret it."

She seemed to bite back a retort, but Akkarin chose to ignore it and turned to face the captive. The man looked suitably frightened now.

"Will you let me go now?" he whimpered. "You know I had to do what I did. They made me. Now the stone is gone, they can't find me. I won't—"

The desperate pleading was nauseating, and Akkarin was concerned to would put Sonea of her resolve. "Silence," he said as he lowered his head to the slave's level.

He considered where to begin. He had never taught this before, so he wasn't sure what would be best. Well, she needed access to the man's surface thoughts for a start.

"Place your hand on his forehead."

Sonea approaches, crouched down, and did as she was instructed. He placed his hand over hers. He briefly realised this had been the first time in over a year that he had touched her- the last time had been when he had made his inner shield for her during the Challenge with Regin. He wondered at why that thought had struck him for the briefest of moments, then brought his mind back to the lesson at hand.

And so Akkarin taught another person how to read an unwilling mind, something he had never thought he would do. He hadn't made any promises, not like the other things he had been taught, but it left him with a chill in his bones that he could not identify.

She struggled with the concept of 'drifting' into another person's mind at first, but that was to be expected- no lesson in the University could teach her this. She then grasped the idea quickly and confidently, and he was once again struck by the twists and turns of fate that had brought this particular girl to his residence that night so many years ago now. This particular girl who no other novice could match for ability, strength or natural talent. It made him wonder, had it been a coincidence? Or…or was it fate? Did something…pull her there, did some thing want her to see what she had seen, so they could all end up right here, right now? He almost snorted out loud- of course he didn't believe in fate or destiny. Those things are for people with the luxury of happy lives and good fortune. But enough of this talk for now.

 _-Who are you?_ Akkarin asked the slave, with Sonea's presence watching.

- _Takava,_ the answer came immediately, and information about the man burst forth.

- _Who is your master?_

 _-Harikava, a powerful Ichani._ So this wasn't one of Kariko's. Interesting…

- _And what are the Ichani?_

 _-Powerful magicians._

Akkarin sensed surprise from Sonea. _Why do they keep slaves?_ He asked.

- _For magic._

Sonea's confusion, and then horror, at her understanding of the constant strengthening of magical power through the slaves was palpable.

- _But no longer!_ Takava interrupted his own memory. _I am a slave no longer. Harikava freed me._

Akkarin felt a small amount of pity for the naivety this young man displayed by believing that, but then remembered what he had done since arriving in the city, and it vanished. He and Sonea watched the man's memories of 'being freed', watched as he learnt the basics of how black magic worked. Before Sonea saw anything she didn't want to see, Akkarin stopped the memory.

- _Now you try, Sonea._

He was half amused, half surprised, when Sonea chose an image of himself to prime Takava with. After the initial hate had subsided from the captive, she was able to grab the image she was most interested in- an image of the Ichani.

- _Who are these Ichani?_ She asked. She wanted to test the complexity of the memory, consider its validity- good. Takava went through the lift quickly, finishing with a name that, despite his best efforts, sent a chill down Akkarin's spine.

- _Kariko, the man who wants to kill Akkarin._

 _-Why?_

 _-Akkarin killed his brother. Any slave that turns on his master must be hunted and punished._

The astonishment that swept through from Sonea was potent. Of course, she had no idea. Of course, no one of the Guild had any idea. That was the whole point. Akkarin quickly backed away from the sensations, fearing what he might feel from her. Takava went on with his story.

- _He says he will invade Kyralia and defeat the Guild easily. It will be a fine revenge for what the Guild did to us after the war._

- _When will this invasion be?_ Akkarin asked abruptly, realising this was the perfect opportunity to ask such a question.

- _Don't know. Others are afraid of the Guild. No slaves return. Neither will I…I don't want to die!_

Disappointed in such an unhelpful response, Akkarin considered Sonea. Her astonishment had quickly became questioning. But her thoughts showed her curiosity was not disbelieving, but desperate to understand. Akkarin was incredibly, but quietly, grateful for the lack of one emotion- pity. Sonea was horrified for him, but didn't pity him.

There were so, so many reasons Akkarin would never tell this story willingly- it would divulge too much information about his history, the Guild wasn't ready to know its own history when it came to black magic, there was a small chance he wouldn't be believed. But the main reason- the true reason- was that he couldn't bear the way people might look at him after. He'd be damned before he saw people looking at him with eyes wide with tears and heads tilted with compassion.

 _-What have you done since entering Imardin?_ He asked Takava, and prepared himself for stopping the answer to his question when he needed to. As the memory turned to Takava finding a man with magical potential and capturing him, he brought himself back to his body and pulled Sonea's hand away from the man's forehead.

He looked at her. She was frowning at him, but once again there was no shred of pity about her. He could have thanked her for that. But he didn't.

"Why did I do that?" he said, voicing the question clearly on her lips. "You were about to learn what you don't wish to learn."

He got back to his feet, holding back a wince as his knees straightened after slow being crouched down. He was _not_ getting old, he wasn't.

"Leave us Sonea," he said softly. He didn't look at her, but he knew the slight hesitation in her movement towards the door was her initial understanding of what he was about to do, and her desire to stop him. But then she walked swiftly to the door and left without a word. So she understood, and accepted, what he had to do. Perhaps tonight had been worth while

"Kariko will be very interested to meet her," Takava said will a false bravado. "She'll be quite the prize."

Akkarin gave his captive a stare that made the man flinch despite his bonds. "Well, as we have already gathered, my dead body will be in his way before he gets to claim her. And believe me when I say she'll put up a fight like no woman you have ever met. Now, shall we get this over with?"

A half minute later, and it was over, and Imardin was safe once again.

But Akkarin's soul was blackened just a little more.

Not wanting to hang about, he quickly left the room to rejoin his two companions. In the small entry room, Morren was looking thoughtful. Sonea was looking pale and not a little frightened. She looked up as he clicked the door closed, but unlike so many times before, she was able to keep his gaze. He had been right, there was no bit of pity about her. Indeed, even now there wasn't as much fear of him- yes, she was scared, but much more to do with what she had seen than him. No, as they considered each other, he thought he saw something else- empathy.

"You have much to think about," he murmured, and she nodded. "Come, we will return to the Guild." She looked relieved at that. He looked at the assistant. "Thank you, Morren. Dispose of him in the usual way, will you?"

"Yes, my Lord," Morren said, bowing his head. "Did you find out anything useful."

As he looked at Sonea, who was staring at the wooden floor, but clearly not seeing what was before her. "Perhaps," he replied, certainly hoping, praying, that he had. "We shall see."

And thus began the beginning of the end.

 **Phew, that was a big one! Thank you to *all* of you who sent me ideas of fics to promote, it's so lovely to see people being so eager to celebrate other people's work. I have a list, and I will work through it, so don't worry if I don't mention yours immediately. I am** **still looking for recommendations,** **so please keep sending them in. Firstly, the lovely EdHellos recommended "Struggle" by Lord Thibault (who has actually written a few other fics as well). Edhellos described it as a completely different approach to an AU version of the BMT, and is really well written. I can definitely testify to that! It is rated M, so proceed with caution. I have favourited it as a story, so you can find it on my profile :) Love you you all, Cece xox**


	39. The Nature of Evil

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Nature of Evil

Walking through the university of an evening was always a pleasant experience. The bustle of the day over, a serene calmness settled over the ornate building, like it was breathing a sigh of relief now that the day was done. Tonight, this sensation was only added to by a beautiful dusk that set the stain glass windows ablaze. Rothen slowed and allowed himself the time to enjoy it. He remembered, with a pang of both pain and fondness, a very similar evening more than two years ago, on one of the first nights Sonea had ventured about of his rooms. He had indicated the space in which he now walked with a wave of his hand.

 _"This is where magicians congregate before a meet."_

 _"What does that word mean?"_

 _"Congregate?"_

 _"Hmm," she nodded._

 _He thought quickly. "Oh, to gather in one place, I suppose."_

 _"What do you talk about at your meets?" she asked as they walked away from the doors to the Guildhall._

 _"Well, everything and anything. From big to little. For example, last week we voted on a need to need to invest more money into research into magical use in marine- well, at sea, basically. Not very interesting. And, of course, we decided on the best actions to take to find you."_

 _"Doesn't your leader make decisions for you?" she asked as they walked outside into the much colder air. Rothen made a shield of warmth around them._

 _"The High Lord you mean? Oh, no. He obviously has great sway in how things happen, and has the power to veto, to stop, things if he really wants to, but ultimately, we are democratic. That is, what the majority of the magicians vote for is what we decide on."_

 _"Doesn't that just cause a great deal of arguing?"_

 _Rothen chuckled ruefully. "Oh, yes. And politics and campaigning and intrigue. But it tends to stay fairly professional, at least most of the time. The Administrator, who you met, is responsible for that. Well, that and many, many other things."_

 _"Is the Purge voted on?"_

 _"No. That's an executive order handed down from the King. That means we have to do it."_

 _"Do you vote on how magic should be used?"_

 _Rothen frowned. "I'm not sure I follow."_

 _"If magic can be used to hurt people in the way it hurt that boy in the Purge, then it should be considered a bad thing. Its use should be controlled, surely."_

 _Rothen considered that carefully before responding. It was a fair enough point in a way, and he was pleased she felt able to question him, but she needed the truth, and in a way that she would understand. "Is a knife a bad thing?"_

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"A knife, in and of itself, the carved piece of metal, is it a bad thing?"_

 _"Well, no. It's what someone does with it that could be bad."_

 _"Very true. Perhaps it would be useful to remember that, in and of itself, magic can never be evil. It's not necessarily good, either. It's just a way, a very rare way, of controlling the world around you. It's what people do with their actions, whether by a knife or by their magic, that deems them evil or not."_

 _Sonea frowned. "I suppose."_

 _"If we extend that argument, we can say that people who wield knives aren't necessarily evil. Cooks, for example, use knives all the time in a completely harmless way. But people who would harm others by their actions with a knife are doing evil things. The same could be said for magicians. Being able to use magic doesn't necessarily make one bad, but one could use it to do bad things."_

 _Sonea gave him a haughty glance. "Like killing an innocent boy?"_

 _Rothen frowned. "Ah, there you've got me. Yes, that was wrong, it couldn't be more wrong. All I can say is that it was an accident, one I hope will never be repeated." He sighed. "I'm not asking you to change your whole set of values, Sonea, truly. You are entitled to believe what you believe. All I ask is that you consider what other views there may be, that's all. Things in life are hardly ever black and white."_

 _Sonea was quiet for a while, watching the falling snow disappearing on contact with Rothen's shield. "Alright. You put forward a good case," she said eventually, giving him a lopsided smile. "I'll try and see things from your lot's side."_

 _Rothen smiled back at her. "And I promise to try and see things from yours."_

They had been as silent for the rest of their walk back to Rothen's rooms as he was now making the same journey. He remembered feeling pleased with the ease with which she had understood him and had been willing to consider that magic was not the epitome of evil. It had been his first, real hope that she might just be willing to stay. He hoped that, despite everything that had happened since, she didn't regret her choice. He hoped she still had the idea that, whilst individual people in the Guild had been truly awful to her, that didn't mean the whole place was awful. And maybe, just maybe one day, things work themselves out.

Of course, what Rothen didn't know what that Sonea was now considering his words in quite a different light. Perhaps if he had known what was about to happen, he would have changed his mind- the greatest threat to her was not the evil side of the Guild hurting her, but the evil side of the Guild changing her. And perhaps if he had known her thoughts at that moment, as she sat at her desk, desperately trying to understand the memories she had seen in the slave's mind, he may very well have been sick to his stomach. But maybe that was less to do with her having misunderstood what he was saying, and more to do with her understanding him better than he understood himself.

 **Something that really annoyed me in THL was that Trudi alluded to a conversation between S &R about whether magic was evil or not, but this conversation doesn't take place in her books. She mentions it three times in total, but it never happened. So I took it upon myself to write it for her, being the wonderful person I am, haha! This is the last chapter I will be giving you before Christmas, so I wish each and everyone the joy of the season. Your present to me will be to send me more recommendations! This chapter's recommendation from guest reviewer Lucria, who enjoyed "The Hunters" by Valyriana. I went to check if I had read it and yes, I have and it is another awesome (kind of complete) story. As ever, check it out in my favourites. Happy Holidays! Cece xox**


	40. Confiteor

Chapter Forty: Confiteor

Noticing the flash of blue in the distance, Akkarin felt relief sweep over him. He had been waiting for an opportunity to discuss the strange murders in the city with Lorlen for weeks now, but every time he tried, something else came up. It seemed he was finally going to get the opportunity.

"Lorlen, are you busy?"

The Administrator stiffened slightly at the question- well, it probably wasn't the question, but the voice that asked it. But he managed to keep himself in check enough to respond curtly, "I am always busy."

 _Even after all this time, he still has the energy to keep this feud of ours as hot as the night that I read his mind_. _It's almost impressive, really._

"This should only take a few minutes," he said.

"Very well," Lorlen said, shrugging. He adopted the pose of someone waiting for something to happen.

Akkarin made a deliberate tilt of his head towards Lorlen's office. A mild irritation flashed across Lorlen's face, but it was gone before anyone but a close friend would notice. Or an ex close friend, of course. As they began to walk toward the room, a voice called out behind them.

"High Lord!"

It took Akkarin a moment to put a name to the face. He berated himself for that- he should at least know Sonea's teachers at first glance. "Yes, Lord Halvin?"

"Sonea has not appeared for class this morning," the Alchemist said hesitantly. "Is she unwell?"

Sonea, not in class? This was new. And worrying.

"Her servant has not informed me of any sickness," he answered, quickly going deep into his mind to trace her. He had tried not to do this too often, only doing so when he needed to be sure of her safety when the troubles with the other novices had reached its crescendo. It didn't take long to detect her distinct presence. Her choice of hideaway was…interesting, to say the least.

"Thank you for informing me," he dismissed Halvin, and the Alchemist scurried back to his classroom. He sighed. Another opportunity removed to talk to Lorlen. It seemed he had congratulated himself too soon earlier. "This other issue will have to wait," he directed towards his former friend. "I had best find out what my novice is up to."

"Of course," Lorlen said mildly, but Akkarin could tell he was hiding some concern. He could have told Lorlen that she was perfectly fine, that nothing had gone amiss, that she and Rothen weren't up to some plot. But then he realised as he walked away, feeling Lorlen's eyes on his back until he left through the main university doors, he didn't _want_ to soothe Lorlen's nerves. He occasionally had to remind himself the reason this whole situation had come about was because Lorlen had decided to investigate him behind his back, and not ask him openly about the things he had seen in Sonea's mind. Lorlen had brought this whole nasty business down on his own head. If Lorlen was going to hold Akkarin's apparent lack of morals against him, Akkarin would hold Lorlen's lack of trust in the same place. Of course, Akkarin still blamed himself for the most part, that was never going to change.

Akkarin hadn't been up the way to the spring in quite some time. As irritating as it was to have to go a-hunting for his novice, he didn't mind been given the opportunity to relive some of his happier memories from his youth, particularly after yet another disappointing interaction with the person who once knew him best. He thought, as he stepped around boulders and over thick tree roots, that he saw the glimpse of two familiar figures in the corner of his eye. But then, when he looked up properly, the novices were gone, only existing now in his mind.

Finally reaching the clearing, it didn't take too long to spot Sonea, though her brown robes camouflaged her rather well in this environment. Her eyes were closed, and she did not notice his approach, but a deep frown creased her forehead, showing her not to be asleep. She looked tired and worried, and a pang of guilt went through him.

He had been wrong to send her to bed the other night with no explanation of what she had seen. It was clearly on her mind, had been so since the long walk back through the passages to his residence, and she deserved the right to be able to sleep at night.

Well, it was time. Time to confess.

"Sonea," he spoke calmly, not wanting to completely shock her. Her eye snapped open, and when she saw who had spoken her name, she scrambled to her feet and bowed gracefully.

"High Lord," she breathed, looking more worried than fearful. But whether she was more worried about being found skipping classes or about the things she had seen, he couldn't guess.

He walked over to her, considering the boulder she had rested against. Was this the one that Lorlen had so cleverly manipulated? Yes, he thought it was. But after all these years, could it still be here? He lowered himself to the height of the rock and searched with his mind and fingers. Finally, with a satisfying scraping noise, a section of the rock gave way, and Akkarin was able to pull out the box he hadn't seen in such a long time. Noticing her curiosity, he showed the contents to Sonea. The sight of the little coloured pegs brought back a flood of memories into his mind.

" _You can't be about to win again?! Akkarin, you are impossible."_

" _I'm afraid I can, old friend. You are impossibly bad at this game."_

" _Oh, this is ridiculous. You must be cheating."_

" _What, because you keep losing, I must be the one at fault? Typical."_

" _You're not denying it, though."_

" _And you're not denying that you are the sorest loser in the Magicians' Guild."_

" _Come on, we ought to be getting back."_

" _Why? We still have a quarter hour by my calculations. We can't get back to early or the Monster may catch us before our next lesson."_

" _I still can't believe you persuaded me into skipping his class again."_

" _Oh, we can easily make up an explanation, then ask the others to catch us up. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something."_

" _Oh, what? Oh no, you haven't been stupid with Enya, have you?"_

" _What?! No, of course not! No, it's about…after graduation."_

" _Right, what about it?"_

" _I…I want to go away for a bit."_

" _Why?"_

" _Because….oh because I am_ bored _Lorlen, I am so very, very, mindlessly, ridiculously, pull-my-own-eyes-out bored! I am sick of this place. I need to get away."_

" _And do what? They won't just let you galivanting off, the Higher Magicians will want a good reason."_

" _I'll come up with something. Perhaps I'll do some research, write a book or something. But that's not really the point. The point is…would you come with me?"_

" _Come with you? Where?"_

" _I don't know, anywhere. Everywhere! We could go anywhere we liked- well, within reason, I suppose. Get away from the stuffiness, the ridiculousness that is this place. What do you say?"_

" _Akkarin, the Guild doesn't have enough healers as it is. They are hardly going to let me go and visit my family in the country, let alone go travelling. Sorry, old friend, but that's the truth of the matter. I have to stay here, where I am needed."_

" _Would you want to come, if you were at liberty to do so?"_

" _Of course! The world doesn't end at the Guild walls, whatever some of us might believe. So you must write and tell me everything. I mean it, everything. You belong out there, I never thought you would be the marry and settle down type, you need adventure. Anyway, it's your turn. Go ahead and win yet again, Delvon."_

Smiling softly at the memory, Akkarin settled himself down against the boulder. Sonea slowly sat too, seeming to understand that there was a conversation to be had. Her hands balled into tight fists in her lap, her knuckles white with the tension of waiting for him to begin.

So, where to begin? Well, it wasn't difficult to decide, he had considered over and over how to tell this story.

"I wasn't much older than you when I left the Guild," he began slowly, softly.

And so, he told her- slowly, softly.

He told her about the arrogance that had led him into the wastes. He told her about the hubris that made him think he could defeat Dakova, and the utter despair that had followed him every day for the next five years. He told her what he had had to do to stay alive. He told Sonea everything. Well, he sanitised it for the sake of her innocence, and of course he didn't talk about her. Well, he briefly mentioned her, but even that brought enough of a pain to his soul that he quickly moved on. He wanted to shield her, but he did tell her that her life, and everyone else in Kyralia's, were under serious threat.

As the words came out, as he finally verbalised everything that had happened to him, and everything he had caused to happen, it felt like a release valve had been opened. It felt like a weight that had been pressing down on his shoulders, whilst still there, had been lifted slightly. It wasn't gone, but the load was lightened. The experience of telling her was so cathartic that he ended up telling her far more than he had meant to.

He pulled up his sleeve at one point to show her physical evidence of his story. The trail of thin white lines that, even after all these years, refused to disappear into his skin. Her eyes widened as she took in the multitude of scars, even on the small patch of skin that he had exposed.

"From the first spy, I learned that Kariko had been stirring up the other Ichani with ideas of plundering Imardin, taking revenge for the Sachakan War, and forcing the Sachakan King to accept them again. He first had to convince them that the Guild does not use black magic. I have been convincing them otherwise ever since."

Eventually, his story came to a stop, and, with a certain amount of trepidation, he looked up at her.

No pity, no desperate sympathy, not even surprise did he find there. In fact, there were no emotions in them at all. She simply looked straight back at him, as if he had simply been giving her one of her many lessons in the Guild. It wasn't that she didn't _care_ about what he had just said, he felt, that was the complete opposite. It was almost as if she was so invested in what he had been saying, that an emotional response would be enough to show how she felt. So she did him the very great service of not even trying to express her horror, which was the greatest gift she could have given him at that moment.

"You're a good listener, Sonea," he praised her, meaning every word, "you didn't interrupt me once. But you must have some questions."

She nodded gently, seeming to consider where to begin.

"Why didn't you tell the Guild about the Ichani?"

A good question. Akkarin remembered several heated arguments he had had with Takan around that same question on the long road back to civilisation. He gave Sonea the same response that he had given Takan eight years ago.

"You think they would have believed me?"

"Lorlen might."

Lorlen. Lorlen had been ready to hear Akkarin's story when he had finally returned.

 _I don't expect you to suddenly trust me again- but when, if, you want to talk about it, whatever "it" is, I'll be here_.

Akkarin sometimes wondered what Lorlen thought had happened, and why he thought Akkarin had never said any more about it. But he knew one thing for certain; Lorlen was a man of the highest morals, and black magic was never going to sit anywhere near comfortably in his mind.

"I'm not sure of that," he said.

There a silence between them then, as Sonea seemed to be thinking through the situation. _Yes, sit like that for another eight years, and you'll be where I am at now_.

"I think Lorlen would believe you," she eventually said, and Akkarin felt a mild annoyance. Why couldn't she let Lorlen go? But then he realised he was being unfair- she wasn't to know that such a conversation was so difficult for him. "If he didn't, you could let him perform a truth-read." She frowned then, and he wondered if he was voicing the very thoughts in her head when he replied.

"I can't risk that. Anyone reading my mind could easily learn the secret of black magic."

"Then the Guild could send several magicians to Sachaka to confirm your story."

Akkarin's answer came fast because he had already considered that possibility. "If they entered in large numbers and started asking dangerous questions, they would be considered a threat. It might start the very conflict we fear. Remember, too, that I knew there was no immediate threat from Sachaka when I first arrived here."

"But now there is a threat," she challenged. For the first time, he was the one who couldn't maintain eye contact with her rather than the other way around.

"Not until Kariko convinces the other Ichani to join him," he said, wondering if it sounded as stupid to her as it did to him. They both knew better.

"The sooner the Guild knows, the better prepared it would be." Ah, so it _did_ sound as stupid to her. But she was still being rather unfair.

"I am the only one capable of confronting these spies. Do you think the Guild will allow me to continue as High Lord if it knows I have learned black magic? Until I have found a way for the, to fight these Ichani without black magic, it is better they know nothing."

She nodded, but her frown did not disappear. "Is there another way?"

 _She really knows how to find the underbelly of an argument every time, doesn't she?_ "I have not found one yet," he conceded.

"So what will you do?"

 _There she goes again_. "Continue hunting spies. My allies in the Thieves are proving more effective than those I previously hired to locate them."

"The Thieves," she breathed, understanding coming. "How long have you been working with them?"

"About two years." He watched her carefully, seeing if she joined the dots. She didn't, to his relief.

"How much do they know?"

Akkarin considered how best to phrase his answer to ensure she stayed in the dark about her friend's involvement. "Only that they are hunting rogue magicians with a nasty habit of killing people, and that these rogues all happen to come from Sachaka. They locate them, inform me, and get rid of the bodies."

She was silent, for a while, and he let her ponder what she had learned. Then a pallor came over her face, her lips pressed into a thin like and she looked back at him with even wider eyes than usual.

"Why did you tell me this?" she asked.

It amused him that she still didn't know the answer to that question. "You knew much already."

"But why me?" He heard the emphasis on the last word of her question. What is even more amusing is that _he_ still didn't know the answer to that question.

"You knew much already," he said, innocent as a child.

"Then, can we tell Rothen? I know he'd keep quiet if he understood the threat."

As much as he understood why she asked, and even wanted to do as she asked, he knew it wasn't possible. Sonea saw Rothen as the compassionate, conscientious man who had given her a chance- he was a man who listened. But Akkarin knew he wouldn't react in the same way to this. He was too invested in Sonea and her wellbeing to see that there may be another side to the story, and if they were to tell him, he would do absolutely nothing to help the situation, only consider how to use the information to snatch Sonea back. No, whatever happened next, however the truth may come out, Rothen was going to despise Akkarin until the end of his days. "No," he said. "Not unless we must reveal everything to the Guild."

"But, he still believes I…what if he tries to do something? About me?"

Akkarin was interested in how Sonea had stopped herself from continuing. What was she going to say? _Still believes I am here against my will? Still believes I am being threatened?_ Did that mean that she no longer considered herself to be either of those things? Did it mean…did it mean that he had got himself a co-conspirator? If that was true, then his partner in crime deserved an answer to her concerns. "Oh, I'm watching Rothen closely."

Hearing the familiar sound of the university gong in the distance, Akkarin rose, and Sonea followed suit. "Go back to your lessons now, Sonea," he said. "My novice does not skip classes."

She looked at him briefly, then quickly glanced away and nodded. "Yes, High Lord," she murmured, and turned in the direction of the Guild. As she began to walk away, Akkarin considered how she had looked at him just then. She had never looked at him quite like that before- it was _respect._ She _respected_ him. Of course, everyone around here looked him with respect, at least begrudgingly, but, for the first time he had become High Lord, he felt he had earnt it. Because someone knew his whole story and still looked at him like that. And it made him think maybe, just maybe, he had done the right thing.

 **I've rather hidden myself away in this chapter in an attempt to withdraw from the real world, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! I would like to thank guest reviewer Dee, who wrote something so sweet a few days ago, you are a sweetie, thank you for a much-needed boost to my self-esteem. This chapter's promo: Not a BMT story, but an appropriate one for this time of year: Aylatha recommends "To Catch A Hart", a retelling of Twelfth Night, using Fire Emblem Awakening Characters. Enjoy! This is the last chapter of 2018. Can you believe this little story is 6 months old? Thank you to everyone who has supported it, you're gems. Happy New Year to you all, have a peaceful and happy 2019. Love, Cece xox**


	41. Meanwhile, Deep In The Sachakan Wastes

Chapter Forty-One: Meanwhile, Deep In The Sachakan Wastes

Meanwhile, deep in the Sachakan Wastes, a cool northerly wind was blowing. It swept across the blood red sands, blowing dust into the eyes of the man who stood stoically looking into it. As the tents of the campsite buffeted around him, his amber eyes were fixed on the ragged horizon, where the Steelbelt ranges blocked his sight of the land he wanted to see. Kariko hated Kyralians, but Kyralia appealed to him, like a willing lover gently calling him to bed. Soft and safe, nothing bad could possible happen there. Unlike these horrendous wastes, with sands that never hardened and winds that never ceased.

Say what you want about Kariko, and, trust me, there is an awful lot that you could say, you can't say he wasn't patient. Oh, the man had the patience of a spider sitting on the edge of its web. He had waited many, many years, plotted many, many schemes. And finally, finally, he had come up with something not just to bring down his little pet magician, but his little pet magician's most pride possession; the Guild. It would be so, so easy. These weren't proper magicians they were going for, after all. They were children playing at games made for grown men. And soon their soft and safe existence would be gone.

Kariko was drawn from his thoughts of the future as he noticed a familiar skinny figure striding toward him. The man came to stand by him on the cliff edge and folded his arms across his chest.

"Kariko."

"Harivaka."

Ichani masters so rarely meet, due to the chance of death for at least one of them when they do, that they had not developed any way of formally greeting each other. So, they simply stated each other's names, and now Kariko waited for the reason Harivaka had come in all this state to speak to him. Harivaka didn't say anything.

"I'll take your silence as cowardice if it carries on," Kariko murmured.

Harivaka stiffened, then spoke. "I wanted to talk to you about the Traitors."

Kariko silently rolled his eyes. "What about them?"

"I'm worried they may react badly to this. To your plan."

"And what are they going to do? Hold one of their referendums to decide what to do about it? By the time they've decided to move on us, we will have secured Kyralia, and it will be too late for them to do anything. They don't realise their democracy is what is holding them back. That and the fact they're…women." He spat the last word as if it tasted of something foul. "Focus on actual problems we have, Harikava, and not on the inconsequential details."

"But surely you remember that the magician did get help from –"

Kariko swore colourfully. "Of course I remember, you fool. If you've gone off the idea, then feel free to back off. I have no use for cowards."

In the corner of his eye, he saw Harivaka's hands ball into fists. "We both know if I do that—"

- _Master?_

Kariko stopped Harikava with a raise of his hand.

- _You made it._

 _-Yes. I will start hunting for sources of magic as soon as I find somewhere to stay._

 _-Why are you giving me the instructions I gave you? Just get on with it. And remember the girl._

 _-Yes, Master._

Then the presence faded.

Kariko was very interested in the girl that he had seen briefly through Takava's bloodgem before the magician had broken it. She had been small and fearful, wearing the brown robes of their younger magicians- what was it the Guild called them? Novices, that was it. She was a novice. The magician had never brought anyone with him before, not ever. He had broken his pattern, but why? Kariko could only think of two reasons- the first was as back-up in case something went wrong. But that explanation didn't work- why would he bring an untrained girl, when he could have brought the finest (not that they deserved the term) of the Guild's warriors? That led Kariko to a second reason- the magician had wanted a witness. The fact that he had brought a novice rather than one of the other leaders meant he was keeping these battles secret from them. Which led Kariko to the conclusion he had been longing to come to for so many years.

Kariko finally had proof that the Guild did not know how to use Higher Magic.

His first move had been to contact the companions he now had- friends was too strong a term- Harikava being one of them. They had all said they would be behind him in a takeover of Kyralia, but only if there was good proof that the Guild no longer used Higher Magic. This proof was the best they were going to get, and the others knew it. They were all agreed- they would invade Kyralia, and become the people they were always meant to be- rulers.

"She's arrived?" Harivaka asked, breaking into Kariko's thoughts.

Kariko nodded once.

"I wonder what he will make of her. She's…different."

"I hope he'll find her amusing. Then he'll kill her, no doubt. He's become quite the master."

"If you know that, why did you send her?"

Kariko chuckled, once again thinking of the brown-clothed girl he had seen. He was looking forward to meeting her, he found innocence quite the aphrodisiac. Then another thought struck him. One that made his lips curl into a snarl of glee. What if the magician thought the same? What is that was the reason he brought her, he wanted to show her the truth out of ardour? Poor Akkarin, his heart would always be his greatest enemy. Oh, what fun this was going to be, now the rules of the game had changed, becoming even more enticing. "Because I love watching him dance. When he dances, he makes mistakes. Being a master doesn't make you a King."

"Kyralia has a King."

Kariko turned to his companion and smiled. "For now."

 **This was surprisingly fun to write! Baddies make the best character studies, no lie. If you haven't read the Traitor Spy Trilogy, you won't be aware of who the Traitors are, but they are a thing. If you want to read more about them, head back over to Trudi's work (then head back over here, we're not done yet!) I'm in need of more recommendations from you, so please send me over some of your fave fics! Sal has recently written a new chapter of her "There Is Always Another Perspective" and it is as AMAZING as ever. Go and give her some of her love 3 Love, Cece xox**


	42. To Break A Promise

Chapter Forty-Two: To Break A Promise

Never before had the ghostly shape of the High Lord's residence looked more inviting than it did tonight. As Akkarin quietly trod the path to the side entrance, he wondered at such a change of feeling. He hadn't wanted to be High Lord, no one in their right mind would really want to, it was a role that, conversely, gave someone all the pretence of freedom in the world whilst locking them in a gilded cage. Giving them great opportunities to meet a multitude of people, whilst leaving them to the loneliest of existences. The first time Akkarin had walked into the High Lord's residence, he had baulked at its formality, its complete lack of homeliness. His predecessor had clearly wanted it to be a place for diplomacy, and whilst Akkarin had had no problem with that, he decided to change all that- he wasn't planning on playing the international diplomat after all, he had other more pressing challenges to deal with. So, he had changed the open entrance area to a guestroom, put doors in and had the underground room build in. Whist it sometimes felt more like a fortress than a home, Akkarin was glad of that tonight. Because tonight had terrified him.

He entered the basement room, having to release the cloth he had been holding tightly onto his arm to unlatch the door. Looking at the wound, he saw that most of the bleeding had stopped now, but an angry line, and a startling amount of pain, was left. How had she done it? How had she got so close? Akkarin wasn't the sort of man who believed women incapable of violence, his confusion was much more that this was supposed to be an _untrained slave,_ but she had fought as if she had been trained. Which was nothing like the other men who had been sent. The pattern had been broken, and in Akkarin's experience of Ichani, that was never a good sign.

As he trudged slowly up the stairs, sincerely looking forward to being able to drag the covers over his head and sleep, a familiar tread of steps could be heard on the landing above.

" _Master?_ " Takan sounded more alarmed than he had in years. Seeing his master bleeding was never going to be a pleasant sight, but Akkarin was curiously comforted by the concern in his servant's voice.

"Takan, stay and I will give you this to dispose of," he said, gesturing to cloth he was still holding. They made their way down the corridor to his bedroom, and he gratefully sank down onto his bed.

"What _happened_?" Takan breathed. Akkarin opened his mouth to give a brief account of the night's events, but they both turned to look through the doorway as they heard a door opening on the other side of the landing. The gentle brush of bare feet on carpet could be heard. Sonea. Takan didn't leave the doorway, seeming to be wondering whether this was a good idea, but Akkarin knew if he didn't let her in on the night's events, she would keep asking until he did.

"Sonea," he said softly, by way of giving Takan permission to let her in. The servant moved, and the familiar slight figure of his novice appeared in the doorway. This time, though, she was dressed in a heavy dressing gown, which she wrapped tightly around herself, and her hair was swept messily over one of her shoulders. She took him in with one sweeping glance, eyes focusing on his bloodied arm.

"What happened…High Lord?" She said, echoing Takan's words, but then remembering etiquette just in time.

Akkarin looked from her to his servant and back again, and chuckled softly at the identical expressions of fear on both their faces. "I can see I'll have no rest until you've both heard everything. Come in and sit down."

Sonea followed Takan into the room, but she looked around with curiosity. He wondered what she had expected to see, and whether she was disappointed in the lack of interest. Her eyes quickly came back to his and she flushed slightly when she realised she had been watched. She sat in the chair that he pointed out to her. Takan had busied himself getting water and a cloth, but there was no way Akkarin was going to allow himself to be nursed in front of his novice. So he took the cloth from Takan with silent gratitude and began his tale.

"We have another spy in the city," he stated matter-of-factly. "She is no ordinary spy, I think."

"She?"

Akkarin was surprised that it was Sonea who picked up on this first, but was pleased she did. "Yes, a woman. That is not the only difference between her and the previous spies. She is unusually strong for a former slave. She has not been here long, and could not have grown strong by killing Imardians. We would have heard if she had killed people."

"They prepared her? Let her take strength from their slaves before she left?" Takan proposed.

Akkarin hadn't thought of that. He shrugged, more to himself than the others, and began the process of healing the cut on his arm. "Perhaps. Whatever the reason, she was ready for the fight. She let me think she was exhausted, then when I came close she cut me. She wasn't quick enough to get a hand on my wound and draw power, however. After that, she tried to draw attention to our fighting.

"So you let her escape," Takan finished. Sonea watched the conversation with wide eyes.

"Yes. She must have thought I'd let her go rather than endanger the lives of others."

"Or she knows you'd rather the Guild didn't hear of magical battles in the slums. She will be killing to strengthen herself again."

"I do not doubt it," Akkarin murmured, feeling a pang of guilt at the monster he had set free to roam the slums.

"And you are weaker now. You've had little time to strengthen yourself after the last one."

"That will not be a problem, not now I have one of the Guild's strongest magicians to help me." As Sonea flushed and looked away, Akkarin felt another pang of guilt. He shouldn't have made it seem like the defence of the Guild rested on her shoulders. He had made peace with the fact that he needed her strength, particularly considering she was more than happy to give it, which was why he had agreed to come to the arrangement that they had. But all this really, really shouldn't all be on her. _She's nineteen years old, for goodness sake._

"This sounds wrong to me," Takan said into the slightly awkward silence. "She is too different. A woman. No Ichani would free a woman slave. And she is strong. Cunning. Not a slave at all."

Akkarin hadn't had a chance to consider this, but now he did, he realised that Takan had a point. "You think she is an Ichani?"

Takan shrugged slightly. "Possibly. You should prepare as if she was. You should…" As Takan paused, Akkarin knew what was coming next. "You should take an ally."

Akkarin rose from his seat to look down at his servant levelly. "We've already discussed this," he stated simply. But Takan wasn't done.

"And you said you would reconsider it if they attack Kyralia. If this woman _is_ Ichani, they are already here. What if she is too strong for you? You can't risk losing your life, and leaving the Guild with no defence."

"And two pairs of eyes are always better than one," a lighter voiced chimed in. Akkarin turned on her, irritated. It was bad enough having his servant question his plans, but his novice as well? In his own house, in his own bedroom?

"You might have got in the way," he snapped, more aggressively than he intended. He immediately regretted his words when he saw the spark of anger in her eyes. She stood as well, though it did little to bring their eye level equal considering their height difference.

"You think so, do you? I'm just a soft novice like the rest. Don't know my way around the slums, or how to hide from magicians."

Well, he couldn't argue with that. Looking at the ferocity in her gaze, he realised he had lost this argument before it even began. Indeed, he lost it long, long ago, without even realising it. The thought made him chuckle. How had he deceived himself into thinking he had any control over the events of his life? How?

"What am I to do? You are both determined to wear me down on this."

Silence filled the room. Akkarin knew they were both waiting to hear his judgement. He decided to try one last evasion.

"I will teach Sonea only if this woman is Ichani. Then we will know if they have become a real threat."

"If she is Ichani, you may end up dead," Takan said softly, staring at nothing before looking straight at Akkarin. "Be prepared, master." Akkarin reached for his servant with his mind.

 _-I made a promise._

 _-I know._

 _-It will be hard for me to break. It's the last connection I have with her._

 _-I know that too. But you must break it. She would understand._

Akkarin sighed. "What do you think Sonea?" he asked. "This is not something you should agree to without careful consideration."

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

 _Good, she isn't jumping madly into this. She is weighing up the options._

"I have considered it," she said after a pause. "If there's no other way, then I'll take the risk and learn black magic. After all, what is the point in being a good law-abiding novice if there is no Guild?" She looked straight at him. "If you die, the rest of us probably will, too."

It seemed she was not returning the favour of putting the pressure back on him, now. But she wasn't wrong.

Once again, Akkarin's tiredly thought through all the tricks he knew, all the options they had, and could see absolutely no way out. He wasn't ready to fight an Ichani, not on his own. And even if he was, he needed someone else to know how. But why did it have to be her? He remembered thinking about the twists of fate that had dropped Sonea into his lap when he taken to read the mind of Takava, but he suddenly realised that whilst that fate might be good for him, it may be nearly as good for her. Where could all this end for her? And here, he was, letting her future be compromised. But his mind came back to one thought. One thought that only contained for words.

 _You have no choice._

"Very well. I do not like it. If there was another way, I would take it." He suddenly felt the darkness of the night surrounding him like a thick fog, and it felt like the walls of his bedroom were closing in on him. "But there isn't. We will begin tomorrow night."

"Good," Takan said firmly.

"Very well, High Lord," Sonea said quietly. She looked tense now, her fingers tying themselves into tight knots around each other. Akkarin took pity on her- there was nothing else to discuss tonight, and she looked desperate to get away and think through all the implications of what had been said on her own.

"Go back to bed now, Sonea. If we're going to do this, we'll both need our rest."

She nodded and bowed stiffly in her less-than-formal attire. "Yes, High Lord." She quickly left the room and padded back down the corridor. For some reason, the sound of her door clicking shut brought home to him what he had agreed to do. Takan took the soiled cloth and basin of water and went to leave as well.

"Takan?" Akkarin said, and the servant turned in the doorway.

"Yes, master?"

"I'm scared."

Takan sighed and nodded, but didn't seem surprised or disappointed. "Me too. But you have both of us now. You're not alone."

 **I got a guest review ask me last chapter whether I am planning on going with the original story or going with something new. My plan has always been to follow the original story through to its conclusion. The reason this story has stayed with me for so long I because of its ending. Canavan refuses to bow to that staple "and they all lived happily ever after" motif. She recognises that real life isn't like that, and that makes the story come alive for me. But I will say this much- this is not the only fic I have planned on this story/universe. The AMAZING reviewer Ygrette (who will think has a stalker because you literally just sent me a review, haha!) has given me an incredible idea of something to do in the future, which I am seriously considering doing. If you're eagle eyed, you may be able to find it… Cece xox**


	43. The Master's Master

Chapter Forty-Three: The Master's Master

Trying to get anywhere in the university in a hurry was far easier whilst classes were taking place, and Osen always tried to time his movements accordingly. An urgent message, however, has scuppered his best laid plans, and now he found himself pushing through the throngs of novices irritably. He never quite understood how there were quite so many of them, he could swear every time he looked away, their numbers multiplied. But perhaps ow was not the time for such musings, considering the message he had received.

It was a message for Administrator Lorlen from Captain Barran- he was waiting his pleasure at his office. Again. When the message had arrived at Osen's office (well, of you could call it an office, it was more a broom cupboard that had a desk and chair shoved into the corner), he had wanted to scream at the messenger. But, using the endless amount of patience and diplomacy he had learnt from his master, he had thanked the messenger quietly and managed to shut his door gently before kicking his chair out from the desk in frustration. Now he had calmed himself enough to be able to dash through the university in the direction he was pretty sure Lorlen had headed earlier. But even as he wove his way through the novices, irritated thoughts still plagued his mind.

Why had Lorlen being handed this task to deal with? The role of Administrator was unanimously agreed to be the most challenging job in the Guild- the longest hours, the most trying list of duties, the least thanks gained. So why oh why had Lorlen being given the role of being 'go-between' for the Guild and the City Guard? It just didn't make sense. And when the Administrator had a mountain of work to do, it was his assistant's job to ensure that the work didn't cause an avalanche. Osen thought jealously of all the magicians currently reading in their rooms, perhaps off on exciting travels, perhaps even meeting interesting girls, whilst he was stuck here, weaving his way through brown cloth. But then he realised that, whilst those magicians might have the satisfaction of having a good time, Osen had the satisfaction of helping to run the largest network of magicians in history. Not bad, really.

By the time he had calmed himself with this self-satisfying thought, Osen had reached the heavy oak door he had been aiming for. Heaving it open, he started up the long spiral staircase. He momentarily considered levitating, but decided that was giving up too easily.

As he climbed, Osen considered what Barran might have come to say. He very much hoped it wasn't to give news of yet another death, but he doubted it. It had become a very predictable pattern. And a part of Osen had thought that maybe, _maybe_ , there was something more sinister to this whole story that Lorlen wasn't telling him. But he shook his head to himself- his father had always told him he had an overactive imagination, one that took his mind to wild and ridiculous places, and it wouldn't do to let it prevent him from doing his job. But there was a loose string he had an urge to tug, a voice at the back of his mind he couldn't quite hear but he was desperate to follow. That feeling, after months of trying to avoid it, ignore it and stifle it, wouldn't go away.

He knew it wasn't his place or his right, but he didn't trust his master's master.

He knew Lorlen considered Akkarin his closest friend in the world. But Osen worried that the High Lord was taking advantage of their relationship in order to make his life easier. Osen's opinion of Akkarin, which had been no different to anyone else's (respectful, slightly awed) had been coloured some eighteen months ago by his sudden decision to take up the guardianship of Sonea. This feeling was confirmed when Lorlen admitted that the pair had argued over the decision. It had made Lorlen think that Akkarin was willing to use people and liked seeking glory. And maybe those traits were leading him to push Lorlen into this investigation more than Lorlen was willing to admit.

But of all the vices that Lorlen had, being a pushover wasn't one of them. If he didn't want to be the Guild's Liaison with the Guard for the murders, Lorlen wouldn't have agreed to do it. He had said 'no' to Akkarin before now, after all. In fact, rather than being a pushover, one of Lorlen's chief vices was his stubbornness- Osen had offered to meet with Barran numerous times himself, or deal with any matters to do with it in the city, and Lorlen had politely declined. Osen had quickly realised it isn't possible to help someone who refuses help.

Reaching the top of the stairway, Osen placed his hand on the final door that was in his way of his destination, and it creaked open. A bright blue sky and the university roof appeared before him. Looking quickly around, he could see two figures, one clad in purple and one in blue, on the other side of the roof. He headed in their direction.

"Administrator?"

Both figures turned, and their robes flaring in the wind.

"Yes?" Lorlen called back, a frown creasing his brow.

"Captain Barran of the Guard is here to see you."

Lorlen turned to his companion, who Osen quickly recognised as Sarrin, and said a few words Osen couldn't hear at this distance. Sarrin nodded, replied shortly and turned back to look out over the city, whilst Lorlen approached.

"Did the Captain sat why he has come?" Lorlen asked, heading for the door.

"No, but he seemed agitated." _Or at least that's what the messenger said to me… I_ need _to get an office that is closer to Lorlen's._

Lorlen kept a quick pace as he made his way down the stairs and back out into the university. Now that classes were just about to start again, the corridors were quieter, except for the occasional straggler who was running quickly to their classroom. Osen had expected him to ask more questions, which he was dreading because he didn't know the answers to any of them, but Lorlen didn't. Perhaps he knew he may as well wait for a few minutes to hear the story from the Captain, perhaps he was too deep in his own thoughts to care to ask for Osen's.

Barran was standing tensely by Lorlen's office door, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He looked more drawn than usual- and for a man whose job it was to investigate murders, that was not every going to be a good sign.

Osen watched on as the two men greeted each other, and they all moved into Lorlen's office. Osen took his normal place, standing in the corner behind Lorlen's desk as the other men seated themselves.

"So, what brings you to the Guild? Not another murder, I hope."

Barran grimaced, and shook his head. "I am afraid so. And not just the one murder. There has been what I can call a massacre."

There was a pause as Lorlen simply stared at the Captain, his jaw clenching tightly. "Go on," he said eventually.

As Barran went on to describe the events of the previous night, Osen began to feel sick. This had been going on for over a year now, and neither the Guild nor the Guard were any closer to figuring out who was the mastermind behind it all.

Osen was still a young man, but he couldn't remember a series of murders in Imardin that were as awful as these ones. Indeed, he couldn't remember reading about any in his history lessons at the university. Whoever was behind it, therefore, was not the usual Thief or scallywag. This was a master, a professional, someone who knew their business. Someone who was doing this not for money, his (Osen was naïve to think women incapable of committing such atrocities) victims rarely had any. He wasn't doing it as some sort of initiation, word of a new gang in the city would have reached them by now. No, the murders seemed to have a single, horrifyingly simple, motive- to get attention. And what made it all the more horrifying was that he seemed to be trying to get the Guild's attention. But… _why_?

"One of my investigators was told by the husband of a victim that stories were going around about a fight in a bolhouse last night. A fight between magicians," Osen heard Barran conclude.

"Magicians?" The incredulity in Lorlen's voice perfectly matched that which was spinning around Osen's head at those words.

But Barran didn't back away from the possibility. "Yes," he said solidly. "One apparently floated to the ground from a third-storey window. I thought it was probably a fancy invented in the dark, except that the murders all occurred in a line pointing directly to the bolhouse. Or away from it."

"And did you investigate the bolhouse?" Lorlen asked.

"Yes. One of the rooms was smashed up quite badly, so something did happen there last night. Whether it was magic…who can tell?"

"We can tell," Osen found himself saying immediately, firmly, with a lot more certainly than he truly felt.

Lorlen turned in his seat and looked at him carefully, then looked away, appearing to nod to himself. "I would like to see this room," he said softly, clearly deep in thought about what could have caused the destruction.

Barran nodded, seeming to be, well, if not pleased with this request, at least satisfied with it. "I can take you there now. I have a Guard carriage waiting outside."

Osen thought this through. No- this wasn't going to work. Lorlen was supposed to be meeting with the first Ambassador to Vin in a quarter hour to discuss the selection a new second ambassador, then the Heads of Discipline an hour after that for their weekly meet. If Lorlen went now, they would all fall even further behind. And guess who would be left cleaning up the mess?

"I could go instead," he offered.

"No, I will do it," Lorlen said with finality. "I know more about these cases than you do. Stay here and keep an eye on things."

 _Which is code for keep everyone's tempers at bay when you miss their meetings._

Thinking about the questions all of them would ask, a thought struck Osen. "Other magicians are going to here about this, they'll be concerned. What should I tell them?"

Lorlen frowned as he considered that. "Just that there has been another disturbing set of murders and that the bolhouse story is likely an exaggeration," he said slowly. "We don't want people jumping to conclusions or causing a panic."

 _But I am already panicking!_

"And if you do find evidence of magic?"

"We'll deal with that if it happens."

That wasn't a solution. That was a backstop answer, and a sign that Lorlen, in all his wisdom and experience, had no idea how to handle this situation if all the signs were correct. Osen could say, hand on heart, that he really did love Lorlen. No one had taken an interest in him the way that Lorlen had, and he had grown so much as a person under his tutorage, but he was terrified that Lorlen wasn't taking this seriously enough.

"Don't worry," Lorlen said in a surprisingly soft, almost fatherly voice. "This is probably only as sinister as all the other murder cases."

Lorlen gave Osen a small smile, and Osen tried to return it. He watched the two men get up and leave the room, and head in the direction of the carriage turning circle at the entrance to the Guild. He was trying to trust Lorlen, he really, really was, but the more people that died for absolutely no good reason, the harder it was to believe that the Guild was doing its best to defend the people it was set up to defend.

 **Another incredibly overlooked character- Osen. I wanted to give him some air time because he gets so little- well, in this trilogy, at least. Hope you all are well! As ever, thank you for all my reviews, favs and follows. The fact that you are all interested in what I write is just so, so lovely. Writing this little story has really helped me over the past few months, so thank you for encouraging me. Lots of love, Cece xox**


	44. The Death of Innocence (Part III)

Chapter Forty-Four: The Death of Innocence (Part III)

" _So, we have a deal, then?"_

 _The pale moonlight, and the sounds of Sachakan war cries in the far distance only added to the terror of this situation. By the eye, how had his life got to this moment? Surely this was a dream, a terrible dream from which his mind refused to awaken him, or maybe he had sunk into madness and this was all some psychotic hallucination. But he could feel his fingers tremble, and his breath come in shaking shudders that he had to try to quieten, and it was all too real to be a dream, too real to be a hallucination. And in real life, the last thing he ever wanted to be seen as was a coward. But right now, he was one. Oh, what to do, what to do?!_

 _A sigh interrupted his frantic thoughts. "I don't have all day, Kyralian. Do we have a deal?" The voice was harsh and low, sympathy or patience were not easy to display when using Sachakan. A language where there is no word for "please", no word for "thanks". No word for "sorry"._

 _Akkarin considered the man. Badly cut grey hair fell into his matching grey eyes. He was old- certainly double Akkarin's age, amd that alone made the man unusual in the Sachakans he had met. Due to the harshness of life out here in the wastes, most people died young, either from disease, malnutrition, or, of course, having their life force dragged from them by a greedy master. This man had somehow not only survived, but had learnt the skill that the Ichani considered to be their greatest asset. He briefly considered asking the man how he had obtained it, how he had found the courage to learn it, but knew the man would either refuse to answer or would give him a lie. You don't survive out here by giving out your secrets, Akkarin had learnt that a long time ago._

 _He considered the man's offer, once more turning it round and around in his mind, like how you might turn a penny round and around in your fingers. Come to think of it, when was the last time he had seen a penny, held a penny?_

Oh, stop, enough- focus! The deal. Think about the deal.

 _It was a very good one- almost too good, really. What the man had asked him to do in exchange for his side of the bargain was nothing that Akkarin wouldn't have done anyway. Like the times his mother made him share his dessert with his sisters, when he didn't like it anyway. That wasn't exactly a chore. What a strange comparison to draw… Anyway, suffice to say, it was a good deal. So… why was he hesitating?_

 _The answer hit him almost as hard as Dakova did._

 _Akkarin couldn't do this. He really, really shouldn't do this._

 _But he_ had _to do this. Any person in their right mind would say exactly the same thing. He had to help the other slaves, he to get back to Guild as soon as possible to warn them that people that they considered harmless could kill them whenever they saw fit. In short, Akkarin had to survive._

But the Guild says that black magic is a crime. If they ever find out, they will kill me.

 _He then realised something- he didn't care. He didn't care about he Guild's laws any more. It was because of the Guild's laws that he was unable to defend himself right now. What was more important, staying alive and keeping other alive, or obeying a law simply because it existed? Because that's what the law on Black Magic was- a law based on a misunderstanding, due to hundreds of years of misinformation._

 _The bottom line is this; black magic in and of itself isn't wrong. It's simply another way of using magic. It's what it gives the person the potential to do that is wrong. Like a knife gives someone the potential to kill._

 _So, girding himself with this resolve, Akkarin took a deep breath, and made a decision that would set his life on a different path to everyone else he knew forever._

" _Alright, we have a deal," he said firmly. "Let's just do this before I change my mind."_

 _The man's eyes narrowed, the wrinkles in his skin deepening. "I teach you this—"_

" _And I will kill Dakova and free as many of the slaves as I can before getting out myself," Akkarin interrupted. "Yes, I understand."_

 _The man simply nodded. "Good," he said shortly, and turned away. He didn't reach out to shake Akkarin's hand as one might expect in a Kyralian deal, because Sachakans don't touch other people unless they have to. They especially don't touch those from other races, who they consider to be unclean. A Kyralian might consider this rude but, really, it was because of the Sachakan War and the creation of the wastes that Sachakans hated foreigners so much, so really, they can't complain._

 _When the man turned back, he was holding a knife._

How strange- you're about to change my whole life, and I do not know your name.

" _Are you—"_

"-Ready, Master?"

Akkarin blinked as Takan's voice brought him back into the room. He saw his servant standing in the doorway, looking at him with a frown on his face.

"What? Oh, yes. Everything's ready," he said, gesturing to the objects on the table in front of him. Between Takan and himself, they had managed to find pretty much everything he would need to teach Sonea black magic in less than a day, which was a pretty incredible feat.

"Is there anything I can do?" Takan asked.

Akkarin looked at him with fondness. "On top of what you are already doing? No, but thank you. You ought to go. I'll send for you when we are in need of you."

"Yes, Master." Takan bowed low and left the underground room, Akkarin assumed in the direction of the kitchen. Once again, he thought about how lucky he was that he had Takan.

 _And to think I tried to send him away. He was always the intelligent one out of the two of us._

Akkarin took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Was he ready? Well, he had to be. It was far too late to be second guessing himself now. He reminded himself of the reasons he had learnt this in first place, and told himself the exact same reasons could be used to excuse him in this situation. Sonea would be here soon, and he needed to gather himself for her not to guess that anything was wrong- well, beyond what she already knew was terribly, awfully wrong.

Sure enough, just when he had been expecting her, the familiar sound of feet on the stairway leading down to the underground room reached his ears. He looked round and saw Sonea step inside. She didn't look exactly calm, but there wasn't ear in her face either. A quiet resolve set her expression into one of readiness, even as her hands shook slightly as she bowed.

"Take a seat, Sonea," he said softly. As ever, she did as instructed, and looked around the table with interest.

"What is all this for?" she asked.

"Your training." He paused, then took a breath, and began on the speech he had been preparing since their conversation late last night. As well as findings all the objects they would need, he had spent the time between their last meeting and this one coming up with the words he needed to break one of the Guild's strictest laws. "I have not taught another what I will teach you tonight. My own learning did not come with an explanation. I discovered more only when I found the old books that Lord Coren had reburied under the Guild."

"How did you find them?"

Akkarin hadn't put that in his speech, but he supposed it was a reasonable question. He gave her a brief explanation of the chest and Lord Coren's letter. "Eventually the letter's existence was forgotten," he finished. "I guessed what Coren's secret was, however."

"And you worked out the instructions?"

Akkarin laughed softly, remembering the agonies he had gone through to find that blasted chest. "No, I spent every night for five months exploring the underground passages until I found the chest."

Sonea seemed to catch the humour in that situation. "Too bad if the Guild had faced a terrible enemy," she smiled, then suddenly stopped. "Well, now it does." She was right, of course. The Guild was both incredibly, incredibly lucky and very, very unfortunate, all at the same time.

"Much of what I will tell you, you already know," he said, once again picking up on his well-planned lecture. That was the thing about black magic- any one who had a basic education in magic had the vast majority of the knowledge required in order to use it, they just had no idea. All it required was putting pieces of knowledge together that you didn't think matched up. Sonea had already started doing that when she made the link between shaping stone and healing, which would make this all the easier.

"The skill of drawing is not a difficult one to learn," he said once he had explained exactly what drawing was, Sonea quietly taking it all in. "I could explain it to you, then leave you to experiment on animals, but it would take many days, even weeks, before you learned to draw with any control." _And we probably don't have that much time- not even a day to waste._ "And smuggling in all the animals could be more trouble than it's worth. But there is another reason." As he said this, his mind drifted back to that night getting on for three years ago, when he felt _as if someone can see me._ And he had been right. And, in a way, he was very lucky that she had been there, otherwise he would never have realised that what he was doing was detectable to non-black magicians. Incredibly lucky and very unfortunate at the same time, again. "The night you observed me drawing power from Takan, you sensed something. I had read that, as with ordinary magic, the use of black magic can be sensed by other magicians, particularly those close by. As with ordinary magic, this effect can be hidden. I did not know I was detectable until I read your mind. Afterwards I experimented until I was sure I was undetectable. I will need to teach you this quickly to reduce the risk of discovery."

 _-Takan?_

 _-Yes, master?_

 _-Would you come down?_

 _-Of course._

A couple of heartbeats later, and Takan's familiar tread could be heard on the stairs. He came in, a measured expression on his face as he briefly glanced at Sonea, then bowed to Akkarin.

"You called, master?"

Akkarin nodded. "It is time to teach Sonea black magic," he said simply.

Takan nodded, and retrieved Akkarin's Sachakan knife from its box. He rested it neatly across his wrists and presented himself to Sonea, lowering himself on his knees. Sonea's eyes widened, and she glanced at Akkarin with not a little confusion in her eyes. She shrank back into her chair slightly, clearly not at all at ease with this obeisance.

Akkarin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Enough of that, Takan- and no kneeling," he said, irritated, thinking Takan would know better. "We are a civilised people. We don't enslave others."

Takan looked up at him innocently as he rose.

 _-What do you call keeping a novice here against her will, then?_

 _-That was your idea, if I recall._

 _-And this is your house, and your novice._

Akkarin couldn't help but laugh softly at the man's insolence. Perhaps it was his idea of lightening the mood. He looked back at Sonea, who seemed to realise a silent exchange was occurring from the slight frown that creased he forehead. He gestured to the knife.

"This is a Sachakan blade, worn only by magicians. Their knives are forged and sharpened with magic. It is many centuries old and was passed down from father to son. Its last own was Dakova. I would have left it behind, but Takan salvaged it and brought it with him." _I would have left it behind because it is a truly ghastly object made with the sole aim of slaughtering people that should be destroyed, but as ever, Takan knew better._ "Take the knife, Sonea."

She did, albeit cautiously, and looked at with a solemn expression. He gave her a moment to consider it before continuing.

"Takan will be needing that chair, too."

Sonea stood up immediately, and moved toward him as Takan sat and prepared himself. Well, there was nothing else to put them off now.

"Make a shallow cut," he instructed. "But press lightly, it is very sharp."

Akkarin noticed the blade tremble ever so lightly just before it touched Takan's skin, but was then carefully slid across. Sonea then lifted the blade and looked at Takan anxiously.

"See, done this before," his servant said to Sonea encouragingly, referencing the many white lines of old scars that criss-crossed his skin. Akkarin tried not to think about how many he had put there. Sonea still looked at the servant with serious misgivings, and gave the same look to Akkarin as she handed the blade back to him.

"You don't have to learn this, Sonea," he said, trying to sound firm, but also, for once in his life, kind.

 _I really, really shouldn't be doing this._

"Yes, I do," she said simply. Decisively. Her eyes did not leave his. "What next?"

"Place your hand over the wound." As she did, he stepped forward and, as gently as possible, placed his fingers on her forehead. He hadn't read her mind since that awful day in Rothen's rooms. It felt…odd, to be doing it now. Now he was invited. He immediately sensed her anxiety, her tension, at the situation through her thoughts, but he also found what he had found before- an iron will and a steady resolve. Once this girl had decided to do something, she considered herself honour-bound to do it. She considered herself honour-bound to him, and he was rather humbled by that.

And so, through gentle coaxing and less missteps than he thought it would take, Sonea learnt the very simple art of black magic.

As she pulled power from Takan's body into her own and successfully stored it, he realised the job was done.

- _Stop,_ he commanded, and released her, stepping away.

"Good. You can heal Takan now," he managed to get out, before a rush of nausea swept over him.

 _I am definitely, definitely going to live to regret this._

Unable to face what he had just done, he turned to stare at the bookshelf that took up most of the one of the side walls.

Just like that, he had set her life apart from everyone else's forever.

Just like that, he was no longer…alone.

A memory suddenly flashed into his mind. The day of the Purge when Sonea threw the stone- he had described her as disruptive to Lorlen.

 _She is a little troublemaker, it seems, and would be a disruptive influence on our way of life here, I would predict._

He had predicted correctly, it seemed. But he was the one that had made her such- that he could never have predicted.

"Are you alright?" he heard Sonea ask.

 _No, not really._

"Yes, Lady Sonea," he heard Takan reply. "You are very gentle. It's just that the healing itches." Then Takan's voice rose, and Akkarin realised it was to adder him. "She will be a worthy ally."

Akkarin couldn't bring himself to come up with a retort. Slowly, he turned to consider her, to consider his new fellow black magician.

"Congratulations, Sonea. You are now a black magician."

Her mouth opened in a slightly gape before she responded. "That's all? It's _that_ easy?"

He nodded once. "Yes. The knowledge of how to kill in a moment, taught in a moment. From this day, you must never allow another into your mind. It would only take one stray thought for you to reveal this secret to another magician."

Sonea nodded, looking down at her hands, studying them.

"Any regrets, Lady Sonea?" Takan asked, looking at her closely and, Akkarin noted with interest, not a little fondness.

She considered the question before responded, fingers drumming the table. "Not as many as I would have if the Guild was destroyed, and I could have prevented it. But I…" she paused and grimaced, and glanced up at Akkarin." I hope I will never have to sue this. That would mean the High Lord had died, and I only recently stopped wishing that would happen."

Akkarin looked at her in surprise as her lips were pulled into a crooked smile, then she looked away, slightly abashed. _I believe that's what they call a back-handed compliment._

The unusual sound of a fully-throated laugh coming from Takan broke the silence. "I like this one, Master," he grinned at Akkarin, eyes sparkling. "You chose well when you took on her guardianship."

Akkarin narrowed his eyes at him. "You know very well I didn't choose anything, Takan."

But even as he said it, a thought struck him. One that made him pause, one that almost drowned out the thoughts of guilt and horror that were stampeding round his mind.

 _Even if I hadn't had any choice, I would have chosen her anyway. Because she_ is _my Favourite._

 **Hello all! I have just started a full nine days off university work (we have one week between semesters to catch our breath!) and I'm going to try and do as much writing as I can in that time. Expect the next chapter by the end of the week!**

 **Ygrette asked me about what I plan on doing next after this fic. I don't want to say exactly what my plan is, we have to leave a little bit of suspense, don't we?, but suffice to say I have more than one story left in me. See you all soon! Cece xox**


	45. Changing Times

Chapter Forty-Five: Changing Times

Lorlen tried to remember the last time he had observed a Warrior Skills class. It had certainly been years- he didn't have time to simply stand and watch things these days, and besides, he wasn't keen on watching young novices be taught how to use violence. He accepted its teaching as a necessary evil to keep Kyralia safe, but that didn't mean he wanted to watch. "Why are we here again?" he asked.

"Because I wanted a word and because I wanted to see something," the familiar low timbre of his former best friend said.

"Fine, I'll be more to the point- why am _I_ here?"

"I already answered that."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't."

"Lorlen, we both had siblings, we could both do this all day."

"Then tell me why I am here. I have things to be seeing too, not standing around."

In the corner of his eye, Lorlen saw Akkarin turn to look at him, but he refused to make eye contact. "Goodness me, you are ratty today, Lorlen."

"You would be too if you were dealing with both a rogue magician in Elyne, thank you very much for telling me about that, by the way, and a blood thirsty magician-turned-murderer here in the city- which, again, is something you know far more about than me, but would you tell me anything? Of course not, that would involve _doing your job_."

"Believe it or not, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You mean you are going to trust me with information that I need to manage both events? Let me write down the time and date."

"Come now, Administrator, you sound like you regret me hiring you."

Lorlen's mind was taken back at that point, to a memory from before he had become Administrator, and Akkarin had only recently Ascended. The Administrator was ill, very ill, not that a lot of people knew that. Lorlen, being his assistant, had taken on much of the work that his master could no longer do, and had been given ongoing access to the Administrator's rooms and office. He hadn't meant to hear a conversation between Akkarin and the old man, but he had.

" _If you don't mind me asking, do you have a best friend?" the Administrator asked. Lorlen thought that a very curious question._

" _Well, yes, actually."_

" _Is he smarter than you?"_

" _Oh, a lot smarter."_

" _Would you trust him with your life?"_

" _Absolutely." That made Lorlen smile._

" _Then that's your new Administrator." The smile suddenly vanished. He dashed out of the room before he could be caught eavesdropping. He went back to his own rooms, and pondered at length what he had heard._

The Administrator had died a couple of weeks later. Three days after that, Akkarin had asked Lorlen to take his place, but made no mention of that overheard conversation. He sometimes wondered if Akkarin remembered having it at all.

"On the contrary, I thought you were the one regretting hiring me," he murmured. Then he cleared his throat, and decided it was time to get down to business. "So, what did you want to tell me?"

"I wanted to discuss the murders, seeing as they have now taken a somewhat darker turn. There was something the Captain- ah, wait."

Akkarin interrupted himself as a familiar figure made its way into the middle of the arena- Sonea didn't look so much worried by the presence of four other novices she was going to have to contend with as much studious. Like she had before the Challenge, she took in the scene before her, drumming her fingers on her leg.

Lorlen looked at his companion, whose gaze was locked onto his novice. "Do you often watch Sonea's Warrior Skills lessons?"

"I wouldn't say often."

"Oh, so her illicit battles with dozens of bullying novices in the university halls late at night were more appealing to you?"

"Those fights ended a long time ago, Lorlen. And do you think she'd be able to do _this_ ," he gestured to the Arena, where Sonea had raised a shield, which she then turned bright white, "if she hadn't been forced by Regin and his followers to learn how? We're out the other side now. Sonea is safe from harassment, and she has only gained from the experience. I thought perhaps your feelings on this subject may have mellowed, but apparently not."

"If you thought my feelings on the unwarranted abuse of a defenceless young woman would ever 'mellow', as you put it, then you clearly never knew me at all." He took a deep breath. He really shouldn't let Akkarin get under his skin. "We'll never agree on this, so we may as well get back to your reason for dragging me here."

Lorlen heard a very audible sigh from his companion. "Very well- I wanted to discuss Captain Barran."

"What about him?"

"You knew each other as children, did you not?"

"Yes. Our families were close. I knew his elder brother better, but we all played together until I left for the Guild."

"So you are in a good position to know how much he knows about magic?"

"I guess- he knows as much as the average Kyralian from one of the Houses. Possibly more now that he has been investigating the murders."

"Well that is what I wanted to point out. The Guard, and the Guild to a point, have made the assumption that these murders are being conducted by a magician, or more than one, as it turns out, but there's still no definitive evidence that this is the case. If I were you, that's the line that I would toe."

"Akkarin- the corpses have nothing on them but shallow cuts. Their bodies were completely drained of magical energy."

"I know that, but the populace of Imardin doesn't know that. Barran himself said he had no way of telling if magic is being used. And as long as we can keep the Guild's interest at bay, then we can keep saying the same thing to them- no actual evidence of magic has been found."

"But how can we keep the Guild at bay, as you say, when—"

Akkarin raised a hand to silence him as the continued to watch the battle in front of him, which appeared to be reaching a climax. He heard Akkarin chuckle as the balls of light bounced around the Arena, as Sonea hid herself from her adversaries. "That's rather good, isn't it?"

"Rather good? It's ingenious."

As the shield wavered and broke, they heard Balkan's familiar shout to call the novices to finish.

"An interesting strategy, Sonea," they could just about hear him addressing her, "not one we'd probably use in real combat, but certainly effective in the Arena. You win the bout."

Sonea bowed respectfully and Balkan dismissed the class.

Lorlen looked at Akkarin at that, who was looking at the head of Warriors through narrowed eyes. He knew that Akkarin and Balkan had always had a somewhat delicate relationship, coming from their opposing views of defence strategies, but neither would ever voice it aloud. It had been, once upon a time, of source of amusement to them both that Balkan had been the one to nominate Akkarin for the position of High Lord, but they had both assumed it was out of duty more than anything else- and a desperate desire to avoid another candidate. But that's a tale for another day.

As she walked to the entrance and noticed their presence, Sonea blinked in surprise, but didn't let herself slow. "High Lord," she said politely. "Administrator."

"You did well, Sonea," Akkarin praised. "You assessed their strengths, recognised their weaknesses, and came up with an original response."

To Lorlen's surprise, Sonea smiled before flushing and looking away.

"Thank you."

"I wouldn't take Balkan's comments too seriously, however. In real combat, a magician uses any strategy that works."

Lorlen looked at Akkarin, unable to hold back the incredulity he felt.

 _Why on earth he is talking about real combat? She's not going to be a warrior, so why is this so important?_

Akkarin gazed back at him impassively, before turning and starting to walk away. Lorlen turned to follow, and Sonea trailed a pace or to behind.

"The Guild will lose interest in the murderer once Ambassador Dannyl returns with the rogue, Lorlen," Akkarin said as Lorlen was catching up. Lorlen had to remember where they had left their last conversation. He frowned as he considered this prediction, disagreeing.

"Perhaps, but they won't forget," he said. "Nobody forgets a killing spree like this. I wouldn't be surprised if someone demands the Guild do something about it."

He heard Akkarin make a small noise of exasperation. "As if having magic makes it any easier for us to find one person in a city of many thousands."

Lorlen had a response to that- they had done it before, they could do it again. And better this time- they knew the slums better, and could use the methods they had developed over the last hunt. But then he remembered that the subject of that comment was walking beside them, listening with quiet interest, and it was probably best not to bring that up in front of her. She might not want to know the ins and outs of all the methods they had considered.

They walked in silence through the Guild grounds, the low sun setting the windows of the university sparkling. The last of the gardeners were finishing up their work for the evening, packing up their tools, but of course stopping to bow as the magicians passed. The sound of the sets of feet on gravel and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the great trees above them was all that could be heard.

Again, once upon a time, Lorlen knew Akkarin would have used this time to tell him amusing stories from court, or laughed at one of Lorlen's stories from the Night Room. Now they had nothing left to say to each other. He should be used to it- it had been almost a year and a half since _that night,_ but he wasn't. He still kept hoping that his old friend would turn to him, tell him there had been some terrible misunderstanding and that their entire relationship hadn't been a sham. Or maybe he would wake up and gasp in relief as it had all been an awful dream. Or, though it wouldn't make things right, Akkarin might even say the one word he had yet to utter when it came to all this- sorry. _I'm sorry I broke your trust. I'm sorry to have made you doubt everything you once thought undoubtable. I'm sorry for letting you down. I'm sorry._ But he never did. And so nothing ever changed, and never would. How very depressing.

They reached the part of the gardens where they would need to part ways, and the two men stood facing each other awkwardly for a moment, not quite making eye contact, as the novice patiently waited.

"Well, I have some letters to write, so I'll say goodnight to you both," Lorlen said eventually, inclining his head to them.

"Good night, Administrator," they both responded, one only slightly more formally than the other. He turned and winced to himself- that had been awkwardly done. Well, this whole afternoon had been awkwardly done. It was strange to think that Akkarin now got on better with his novice than he did with someone he spent his adolescence with. Times were definitely changing, in numerous ways, and, in Lorlen's opinion, none of them were good changes.

As he reached the university doors, Lorlen turned back and watched the pair. Though he couldn't see much with their backs turned to him, he could see they were deep in conversation. He saw Sonea look up at Akkarin, and there was absolutely no fear or trepidation in her gaze. In fact, there was something else there- something in her small smile and the nod of her head as he said something.

 _Trust_. She _trusted_ him.

 _What…what is happening?_

 **Happy February, everyone! We haven't heard from Lorlen for a while, so I thought it was a good time to say hello. And hello to all of you! Here in the UK we're having something of a snowstorm- I hope all my British readers are wrapped up warm! Cece xox**


	46. The Test

Chapter Forty-Six: The Test

 **Pre-Note: This chapter will contain violence, please skip if you'd rather not read it!**

Sonea followed him closely as Akkarin opened the door to the house Morren had gestured out and made his way down the stairs. What would have been a basement had been dug out to make a series of 'rooms', if they could be called that, along both sides of a dirt corridor.

 _Last on the right…_

It didn't take long to reach the end of the makeshift corridor, and even less time to take the entire room. The only personal belongings appeared to be spare clothes.

"Morren spoke of valuables," he said, glancing at Sonea, who was still stood in the doorway, "Surely he didn't mean this."

To Akkarin's surprise, Sonea smiled slyly, and went to the outer wall of the room. She looked at them closely, then started tapping each of the boards, one by one, seeming to both be listening and feeling the wall. Finishing with that wall, she went to the next. He would have asked her what she was doing, but she seemed to need to concentrate. Finally, a self-satisfied sound came from her, and she pulled one of the boards away. She then lifted what appeared to be a layer of mud from his vantage point. She reached in and lifted something out- a bag made out of expensive cloth. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised and a faint smile on her lips. He couldn't help but laugh at her self-congratulatory expression.

"Well, well. You _have_ proven useful," he said, and her smile broadened.

"I lived in a place like this, once." She said. "Dwells call them Holes."

He stilled, and considered her. Considering her in such a place as this was…unappealing, to say the least. "For long?" He couldn't help but ask.

She looked at him, frowning slightly, tthen shook her head slowly. She looked away, turning to consider the room, with the eyes of someone who knew this kind of place very well. "For a winter. It was a long time ago, when I was very small. I remember it was very crowded, and cold."

He looked around the small space, his mind filling the space with images of dozens of people, ill and unwanted. But a thought struck him- where were those people now? Morren had said he had sent a few people on their way, but not the numbers she had described. "But there are few people living here now. Why is that?"

She turned back and looked at him, a sardonic smile on her lips. "The Purge," she said simply, and he mentally chastised himself for his stupidity. "It doesn't happen until the first snows of the year. This is where al those people the Guild drives out of the city go to. The ones the Houses say are dangerous thieves, when the truth is they just don't like ugly beggars and cripples making the city look shabby, and the real Thieves are inconvenienced by the Pur—"

She stopped at the sound they both heard.

"It's her," he heard himself say.

"How do you—"

"Morren would have stopped anyone else." A string of curse words rang round his mind as he looked around the small space. "No other way out." He looked into the space she had just uncovered, assessing its size. "Can you fit in there?"

Without a word, she climbed into the space, and he quickly boarded back up. He stood back and assessed his handiwork. No, it didn't look tampered with. But it was probably the first place she would look considering it was where she had hidden her valuables. He would have to stop her before she got too close to it- yet another thing to think about, how wonderful.

"You again," an amused voice said behind him. "I wondered if you would give me another chance to kill you."

He turned and looked at the familiar figure of the Sachakan woman. She was smiling nastily, then attacked with magic without hesitation. He managed to fling up a shield just in time, and sent magic back at her with the same force, refusing to seemed at all surprised. The room brightened, and there was a crackle as magic hit shields. Akkarin inwardly winced, sincerely hoping that as well as emptying these 'Holes', as Sonea had called them, that the Thieves had also emptied the streets nearby- too noisy and they were going to draw attention to themselves again.

"You came prepared," she said, moving closer. Another wave of magic buffeted at his shield, but he held it off easily. She seemed to be assessing his strength. Well, she was going to be disappointed if she thought he was going to be an easy defeat.

"Of course."

She chuckled. "I have too. Your dirty city is a bit smaller now. And your Guild will soon be another man less." She tried a different approach then, sending her strikes out at different angles to try to trick him into strengthening his shield and wasting energy. That might have worked against a less experienced warrior, but this was the High Lord, remember. Warriors of his calibre aren't beaten by tricks. Often. "What will you Guild think when its ruler is found dead?" She carried on, clearly trying to taunt him. "Will they work out what killed him? I think not." She stepped closer, and Akkarin stepped to the side, not wanting Sonea to be in her firing line. "They won't know what's hunting them. I was thinking of walking in and taking them all at once, but now I think it'll be more fun to lure them out and kill them one by one."

"I recommend the latter. You'll not get far otherwise."

"Won't I?" she grinned, teeth flashing. "But I know Kariko is right. Your Guild doesn't know higher magic. They are weak and stupid- so stupid that you must hide from them what you know or they will kill you."

Akkarin kept his voice calm, refusing to be angered or baited into striking out. "Just because we do not abuse our knowledge of magic does not mean we are ignorant."

"But I have seen the truth in the minds of your people. I know this is why you chase me alone- why you cannot let anyone see us fighting. Let them see this then."

 _I have seen the truth in the minds of your people-_ what exactly did she mean by that?

But before he had time to think that question through, a wooden beam was flying through the air toward him. He had no choice but to meet it with magic, and it cracked in the air with a loud snap before crashing to the floor. If anyone was in the street, they would definitely have heard that.

The woman laughed loudly as the room filled with dust, enjoying herself to an inappropriate level, and walked toward the wooden panelling.

 _Oh, no you don't._

He didn't want to bring any more attention to the fight, but he also needed to stop her getting closer to Sonea- at least until he was able to defend her better. Mirroring her previous attack, he created in his mind the image of rubble. He projected it on the area of the ceiling that had been exposed by the missing wooden beam, and then brought it down, making her jump backwards with a curse.

"Don't try and cheat, slave," she growled at him. Her strikes forced him to the other side of the room, so he now stood opposite the wooden panelling. For the briefest of moments, he thought he could make out Sonea's eyes between a gap in the wood.

A fear, that seemed strangely out of proportion, swept over Akkarin. He desperately thought through every trick he knew, every option he had before him, but there was nothing he could do in the five seconds before the woman's shield move over Sonea, and she realised that this fight had a witness- a powerful one.

And then, quite unexpectedly, Sonea was there, pulling herself out of the covered space. A piece of the wood that the woman had brought down from the ceiling was in her hand.

Then Sonea grabbed her.

And then Sonea slit her throat.

And then Sonea took the woman's magical strength and killed her.

And then it was over.

The room was suddenly deafly quiet, save for both their panting breaths.

As he had looked at her, as he had watched her defending both their lives like a fully trained warrior, the world had tilted on its axis. Scales had fallen from his eyes.

The world appeared to suddenly slow. As she let the body drop to the floor, and she stood just feet from him, staring at her bloodied hands in horror, the last veil was dropped to the floor. He felt he could see her, actually see her, for the very first time. He had never seen this person before. How was that possible?

And this person- this person wasn't his novice. This person was a brave, resourceful young woman, with fire in her eyes, justice on her side and goodness in her heart. And Akkarin, like all of us, wasn't immune to romantic feelings. This new Sonea- it no longer seemed right to consider her a girl, but a woman- he found her deeply, impossibly attractive.

This was…bad. Very, very bad. She was absolutely off limits. He had no right to consider her in that way, no matter how unusual this situation had become. But he did. Because she had proven herself to not be his novice, he had lost control of her in that regard. This was his partner in crime, now. This was about to become a great test of resistance for him, he knew. And he also knew his fingers were already slipping in his desperate attempt to stop him completely falling for her.

But he couldn't think about any of this now. He needed to push it away to the back of his mind to ponder at great, great length later. He snapped back to the present, and normal sense of time restored, in time to hear Sonea's breathing coming in short gasps, as if she couldn't control it. She was trembling all over as she stared at the woman on the floor in front of her with sheer terror. Against his will, his heart twisted inside him. He put his hands on her shoulders, feeling them tremble underneath his steady hold.

"Sonea," he said as gently as he could. "Take a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out."

She took several attempts to do as he said, but eventually she calmed herself, and she closed her eyes. He slowly approached her, pulling a spare cloth from his cloak, and, with infinite care, took her hands in his to clean them. He had never noticed their perfect smallness, their perfect smoothness. How perfectly they would entwine with his own.

 _Stop. Enough._

"It's not pleasant, is it?" he said, in a bid to focus his mind on something else rather than to help her.

She shook her head slightly.

"It shouldn't be."

With the slightest touch, his thumb ran along her knuckles before he even realised he was doing it. He released her hands and took a step back.

"Look at me, Sonea," he said, allowing a little authority to return to his voice to get her to obey.

She dragged her eyes up from the floor. He was expecting fear in them, or the same horror he had seen earlier- but no, that wasn't what he found. What he saw was a deep, profound sadness. It was if something as well as the woman had just died- something inside Sonea, and she was mourning it. Her innocence, perhaps. He mourned it, too, because he was the once that had sentenced it to death.

He noticed then that a piece of the sacking that covered the space in which she had hidden was entwined in her dark hair. Unable to resist, he reached up and it from her hair, which was soft and smooth underneath his fingertips. Oh, the things those fingertips wanted to do.

 _Stop. Enough._

"It's not an easy choice, the one you've made," he murmured, "but you will learn to trust yourself."

She nodded. She seemed calmer now, though she was clearly still having to make an effort to keep her breathing slow.

"We must get away from here quickly," he said, looking around. "The Thieves will take care of the body."

With that, he turned his back on the dead woman and left the room. After listening to make sure she was following, he made his way back onto the street, then down into the tunnels once more.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Sonea clearly had much to think about, and he didn't want to disturb her. He, too, had many things to consider.

Then the peace was disturbed, as suddenly Akkarin's thoughts were pulled in another direction, as Lorlen awoke. Akkarin felt the confusion and slight nausea that Lorlen felt at being so abruptly woken by the hammering on his door.

 _The Guard can't have possibly found out yet!_

He watched, keeping an eye of where he really was, as Lorlen dragged himself to his door and flung it open. Not surprisingly, it was Osen who was stood in the door way.

"Administrator, Lord Jolen and his family have been murdered."

Lorlen's thoughts directly correlated with Akkarin's, but probably with slightly fewer curses. Disbelief, then shock and sadness, then anger swept through his friend like waves crashing upon the shore. As Lorlen hurriedly pulled on his robes and all but ran to the Day Room to meet with the other Higher Magicians, Akkarin realised to things.

The first: That suddenly, what the Ichani woman had said suddenly made sense. _I have seen the truth in the minds of your people._ It must have been Jolen.

The second: That he hadn't been summoned to this meet of the Higher Magicians by mind.

That was probably not a good sign for him.

As he started to listen to the Higher Magicians discuss the murder. As the conversation turned toward him and the part they thought he must have played in it, a sensation he was usually very good at pushing down refused to be ignored: fear. He was scared now. This was so, so not how he had wanted the truth to come out.

"She was Ichani, wasn't she?" Sonea's gentle voice broke through his racing thoughts, and he felt a wave of gratitude to her for bringing him back from Lorlen's mind.

"Yes," he replied, "A weaker one. I can't imagine how Kariko persuaded her to come here. A bribe, perhaps, or blackmail."

"Will they send more like her?"

 _Considering that we're about to be thrown out, that's the least of our problems._ "Perhaps," he said, choosing not to alarm her just yet. "I wish I'd had the opportunity to read her mind."

"Sorry about that," she said, a note of embarrassment in her voice.

He looked at her, amused by the abashed look on her face. "Don't apologise. I prefer that you are alive." _Oh, you have absolutely no idea._

To his surprise, she blushed and smiled awkwardly.

" _Sonea! What is her role in this?"_

" _She dislikes him. I'd go so far to say she hates him."_

" _An observation I made when she became his favourite. Even now, she doesn't like to be in his company."_

" _I wonder if she knows anything. She could be a valuable witness."_

" _And ally- so long as he doesn't kill her for her strength."_

" _How are we going to separate them."_

" _I have a plan."_

"Why did she have a ring of House Saril and an expensive shawl in the alcove?"

He stopped mid-step to look at her, briefly torn away from the images playing in his mind. That would explain a few things.

"She did? I—"

But then his mind pulled him back to the Guild again, as his own residence came into Lorlen's view.

"What is it?" he heard her ask, but he couldn't answer. The images of magicians entering his residence, holding Takan by force and going through his possessions was too horrifying not to watch. As they found the books on Black Magic he had given to Sonea in her room, he couldn't help but curse violently.

"What is it?" Sonea asked, with more insistence this time. He supposed he had to tell her, she was in this as much as he was now.

"The Higher Magicians are in my residence. In the underground room."

He heard he take a deep intake of breath. "Why?" she said tensely.

"Lorlen…" he said, not really thinking that wouldn't make much sense to her.

He had known this day would come- of course he didn't think it would come this soon, and he didn't think it would look quite this bad, but judgement day was always going to happen. In his mind, he quickly went through what would happen next. Investigation, Judgement, Punishment; that was how the Guild worked.

Investigation: He would need to tell them everything that had happened to him in Sachaka.

Judgement: He needed to make sure that the blame lay with him, and that Lorlen, Takan and, most of all, Sonea were spared the worst.

Punishment: There would be a trial- he would need them to consider exile over execution. That way, he might be able to help them if the Ichani used the opportunity to invade. Sonea- maybe he could persuade them to keep Sonea here. He didn't have time now to work out what he had experienced back there in the Hole, and he didn't fancy trying to amass such knowledge on the run with only her for company.

"Everything changes from here," he said, trying to sound calm. "You must do what I say, no matter how hard you may find it."

He was impressed by, and again attracted to, the way she rolled her shoulders back and raised her head and nodded. Bravery suited her.

He tried to explain what had been happening as quickly as possible. Her bravado only weakened when he mentioned the search of her room, but she quickly rebuilt it.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked when he had finished.

"We go back."

"To the Guild?" she said with incredulity.

"Yes. We tell them about the Ichani."

She looked at him as if he was mad. "You said you didn't think they'd believe you."

He couldn't help but sigh. "I don't. But I have to give them the opportunity."

"But what if they don't?"

He looked her straight in the eyes for the first time since he had pulled the sacking from her hair, but seeing the fear that had taken over them, he couldn't maintain it. "I am sorry I brought you into this, Sonea," he said, guilt lancing through him like a knife. "I will protect you from the worst of it, if I can."

"Don't apologise," she replied firmly. "It was my decision. I knew the risks. Tell me what I must do, and I will do."

He couldn't help but stare at her then. A simple question went round his head: _why would you do that for me?_ But the images that Lorlen was seeing of Takan, he one true friend throughout all of this, brought him back into action, and they continued their race back to the Guild.

As they reached the door to the underground room, and he divested himself of the cloak and lantern, he realised there was nothing left to stop this from happening, and he couldn't quite bring himself to move. He stood, staring at the door, willing this to be one of his terrible nightmares that he would wake up from.

But it was time. He had been graced with eight years of respect, honour and being seen as a true leader. Now, it seemed fate had come back to claim her price. Well, if she wanted someone to play the monster in the Guild's nightmares, he wouldn't disappoint. Say what you like about High Lord Akkarin, but coward he is not, and he always pays his debts. I've told you before, nothing in life is free.

"Stay here until I call you in," he murmured to Sonea.

With a deep, slow breath, he opened the door with magic and stepped inside.

"My, what a lot of visitors. What brings you all to my residence so late at night?"

 **This is later than I planned to have this published by, sorry guys- it was trickier to write than I anticipated. I've had quite a few people ask me over the past few months how I see Akkarin's feelings for Sonea developing. Well, here's your answer! Another shout-out to another amazing serial reviewer- Raven! Thank you so much for all your views, I've really enjoyed reading each one of them. And yes, you guessed correctly on Chapter 26, I *used* to be a Who fan! You are the first person to find that Easter Egg, well done** **See you soon, and again THANK YOU for all your love! Cece xox**


	47. I Trusted You

Chapter Forty-Seven: I Trusted You

Of all the magicians currently alive and working in the Guild, Balkan was the one who probably spent the most time in the Arena. But that should come as no surprise, really. Not only did he teach, but he also observed lessons and went over its maintenance regularly with builders and magicians alike. If Vinara's kingdom was the Healers' Building and Sarrin's the laboratories, this was Balkan's- and of course he considered it to be the grandest of them all. Not that he was biased or anything. But of all the thousands of hours he had spent inside, he had never experienced an atmosphere like the one inside it today.

Walking through the portal tunnel, two warriors, noticing the movement, immediately came to block his way. But, seeing it was him, immediately bowed and let him pass.

"Has he said anything?" he asked one.

"No. He just sat himself down and hasn't moved a muscle since," the man replied.

Balkan nodded. "Leave us."

The man hesitated. "But—"

"If he wanted to kill me, no doubt you would be able to do precious little to stop him," Balkan interrupted. "It's alright, I'm not afraid, I trust in his honour that much. Leave us."

The two warriors looked at each other, then bowed again, and headed out of the tunnel.

For the first time, Balkan allowed his eyes to scan the floor of the Arena, before they stopped on the dark figure sitting on the floor on the other side of the space. He crossed over quickly, asking himself once again why he was doing this. Nothing was going to come of it. But the King had insisted.

Akkarin's eyes were closed as Balkan approached. For a moment, Balkan thought he might be asleep. Then he noticed the man's fingers were tapping lightly against each other. "Did you want something, Lord Balkan?" he said quietly.

Realising after a few awkward moments that the man wasn't even going to open his eyes, let alone stand up, Balkan grudgingly crouched down in the sand beside Akkarin to face him.

"I want to know what happened last night."

"Not yet."

"I want to know what you and Sonea were doing in the tunnels."

"Not yet."

"I want to know why we found books on Black Magic in Sonea's room."

"Not yet."

"I want to know why we found books on Black Magic and a bowl with dried blood in in your underground room."

"Not yet."

Balkan made himself deep, calming breaths. He had planned for this eventuality. "You said you were going to co-operate."

"I am your prisoner, am I not? Have I stopped you searching my residence? Have I not made my novice available to your investigation?"

"She's saying as much as you are."

At that, Akkarin opened his eyes and appeared to smile slightly at that. "Isn't she? That's interesting. I didn't tell her to do that."

"So are you not going to give us anything before the trial?"

Akkarin looked at him with amusement. "Poor Balkan, this must be killing you. And no- I won't be. You get the whole story or nothing at all, I'm afraid." His smile suddenly vanished and he stood, shaking the sand from his clothes. Balkan immediately followed suit. "But, seeing as I am, for now, still you High Lord and you are my Head of Warriors, I am obliged to give you some private advice. Something is coming, Balkan. Something is coming that you on your own don't have the power to stop. You've already witnessed the ease with which they can bring down magicians. You need my help."

"Why should I believe a single word of that speech, when you are accused of using evil magic to kill people?"

Akkarin gave a wry chuckle and shook his head. "Ah, so it has already been planted. That little seed of doubt that's started growing right here." He reached forward and tapped Balkan on the forehead. "It's going to take everything in you to resist it. Because once an idea takes root, it's virtually impossible to ignore it. Which is _exactly_ what the people who are actually responsible would want. But oh well, I suppose I probably on some level, I deserve it. It's Sonea that I fear for- she hasn't done anything to deserve the retribution that you would have dolled out upon her."

"What are you saying? That these people, whoever they are, will kill her, and it'll be our fault, which is why we shouldn't punish you? Emotional blackmail isn't normally your go-to strategy."

"Oh no, Balkan, that's not what I am saying at all. If you think death is the worst thing that can happen to a person, that shows how little of suffering you know. I am saying that when they catch her, and beat her, and torture her for information _about you,_ and…" Akkarin paused, and took a deep breath. "Well, you can imagine what else they would do. When they do _that_ to her, that will be your fault. Her death would be a blessing, I assure you."

As many times as Balkan had gone over this conversation in his head, he hadn't been expecting that. But he was a Warrior of the Magicians' Guild of Kyralia, and that meant he could improvise with the best of them. If Akkarin wanted to use emotion tactics, so be it. "Well, until I have evidence that 'something is coming', as you so mysteriously put it, I refuse to take such predictions as anything but an attempt to stay the king's hand," he said, an almost mocking tone entering his voice. "Does death really frighten you that much?"

The look in Akkarin's eyes changed then- he looked strangely offended, and Balkan was honestly surprised. He hadn't thought it capable to hurt the man's feelings. "You think that I value myself so highly, that I wouldn't give up my life for everything I hold dear in a heartbeat if I thought I could save it?" he asked incredulously. "You think my life is that important to me? You were there when I made that vow- the Guild is my Liege Lord of life and limb, to defend against all manner of folks. If I thought my death would bring this, my family and my home, smallest bit of ground in the situation, I would offer you my head to take to the King right now. So, no, to answer your question, I don't fear death. I learnt to die a long time ago. No, what I fear for is you. Something- _someone_ \- is coming- the signs are all there, can't you see? Balkan, I'm asking you to see reason. Why would I kill one of my own? Why would I be so obvious about it?"

"That is what the King said. But what I don't understand is why you won't explain yourself further."

"I will- but not yet."

"Then I see that my coming here was a pointless waste of my time."

"If that's how you want to view it." Akkarin turned away and sat himself down in the same position again.

Balkan turned to walk away. Rage was building up inside him, and he didn't want to give Akkarin the satisfaction of seeing it. Yes, Balkan had been the one to nominate Akkarin for the position of High Lord, but He and Akkarin had never quite seen eye to eye- that wasn't news, everyone knew it. They had slightly different ideas of what made the Guild strong, what made a good leader, and they often rubbed up against each other uncomfortably. Most of the time they were able to keep their differences unobserved, or at the very least professional, but Akkarin had stepped so far over the line it was not impossible to ignore. Whatever the faults of the other candidate had been (and there had been many, you can take my word for it), it he would never, not ever, had brought the Guild to a precipice like this. Before he realised he was doing it, Balkan was whirling around to face Akkarin again.

"I trusted you," he spat, walking closer again, Akkarin watching him with interest. "I championed you. I am the reason that you became High Lord- me, the one who nominated you and mentored you and made you the warrior you are," he thrust a thumb toward his chest. "And all you ever did was let me down, time after time. You never lived up to the potential I saw in you. This mysterious, holier-than-thou attitude, the condescension with which you view us, _me_ , that is not what I signed the Guild up for. I am heartedly sick and tired of this whole circus. And if this situation gets rid of you, one way or the other, then I will be praising the Eye for eternity. I am _done_ with you."

Akkarin blinked at him. That characteristically irritating half smile curled one side of this mouth, and Balkan cursed himself for letting his feelings get the better with him against a man who famously never showed a single emotion.

"Goodness, how long have you been holding that little tirade in? It's nice to see you finally saying what you actually think of me. Did you think I was too delicate to be able to handle it up until now? But now you think I am some crazed murderer, now you allow yourself to be honest. Well, that's one silver lining, isn't it?"

Balkan decided he had said enough for one day, and turned with every intention of actually leaving.

"I haven't dismissed you yet, so I am not sure where you are going." Order had entered Akkarin's voice. Balkan, like the trained soldier he was, immediately stopped., but didn't turn around. Behind him, he could hear Akkarin once again rising, and his steps on the sand as he came to face Balkan. "Because you know what? I trusted you too. I trusted all of you to _trust me._ To _believe in me._ I should have known you would fall at the first hurdle, despite the fact I have never given you any reason not to have faith in me. So it looks like I'm not the only disappointment." By the time he had finished, their faces were inches apart, glaring each other down. It was, naturally, Balkan who broke the gaze.

"I'm done with giving you chances to explain yourself before it all gets too serious. I did what I was asked, and more, and now I wash my hands of you. So, High Lord, may I be dismissed, so I can get back to protecting your Guild?"

"You may."

"Oh, Balkan, one last thing."

"What?" he couldn't help but snap over his shoulder.

"Any of you lays so much as a finger on Sonea before I see her again, I will know. And I will live up to the caricature you have created of me."

It was Balkan's turn to chuckle then. "So you've finally taken an interest in her wellbeing. What changed your mind?"

"She can see what none of you can."

"Well as much as I love your smoke and mirror talk, I have a role to get back to that I would like to complete honourably. I will see you at your trial." And with that he paced away, the only sound from Akkarin being a heavy sigh.

He walked back through the tunnel with the two warrior guards looking at him nervously as he strode past. Once he was outside the Arena once more and able to look down into the inside, he observed his leader who now, not sitting, was leaning against one of the large pillars that gave the Arena its impressive shape. His eyes weren't closed this time, and he stared up at the sombre sky, where clouds were gathering and threatening to break at any moment, with a look in his eyes Balkan had never seen there before- it wasn't anger, irritation or disappointment. It wasn't fear, or anxiety, or determination. It was sadness. Deep sadness.

And that was the first time that Balkan thought, just for the smallest moment, a terrifying thought- _what if he's telling the truth?_

 **Random story from my life- I have two laptops and save the document I write this on a cloud so I can shift between them depending on where I am, and the cloud somehow half of it! Worst 15 minutes of my life until I found out to can "view document history", phew. Anyhow, I thought it would be interesting to look at a brand new character this time. What did ya think? You know how much I love you guys, right? Cece xox**


	48. Investigation, Judgement, Punishment

Chapter Forty-Eight: Investigation, Judgement, Punishment.

Boots brushed through the sandy ground of the Arena. Many pairs of boots, it seemed. The awkward hush that settled over the building alerted Akkarin to the fact that the Guild had finished the first part of its justice process. It was not ready to move onto the second. Turning around, he almost laughed at the huge number of warriors that stood in the entrance to the tunnel. Balkan was at their head, and Lorlen stood before them all. Lorlen's familiar presence would once have been a balm in such a situation as this. Now it only added to the building tension.

"It is time, Akkarin," he said, an impressively neutral expression giving away nothing as to how he felt. "You are accused of murder and practicing black magic. Your novice is accused of learning black magic. Will you come and answer our questions on these three accusations?"

"But of course," he replied.

Without another word, Lorlen turned on his heel and made his way out of the Arena. As Akkarin made to follow him out, the Warriors settled into formation around him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was all part of the spectacle.

It would have been nice to have a quiet walk to the Guildhall, but the sheer number of people in this entourage meant that wasn't possible. Akkarin looked in the direction of the dome, hoping to see a similar group of people bringing Sonea. But there wasn't another magician in sight.

When they reached the Guildhall doors, he stopped abruptly, forcing the entire guard to awkwardly do the same. "Where is Sonea?" he asked.

"She will be brought in after you," Lorlen said firmly.

"I'm not going in without her."

"Now, Akkarin—"

"I'm not going in without her. It can't be that difficult to understand."

"Why?"

"Otherwise how would I know that you haven't hurt her, before subjecting myself to your judgement?"

"You don't trust in our honour enough for that?"

"I trust it as much as you currently trust in mine."

The glare Lorlen gave him then could have turned a weaker man to stone. His eyes then unfocused, and Akkarin turned his focus inward.

- _Osen?_

 _-Administrator?_

 _-Where are you?_

 _-At the front of the university._

 _-Stay there for a moment. Akkarin says he will not enter until Sonea is here._

 _-What shall we do?_

 _-Wait. We will decide._

Balkan let out an exasperated sound."Administrator, why are we pandering to him?" he said testily. "He might be wanting to use her as a source of power. We discussed this, and we all agreed- they must be kept apart."

Akkarin turned on the Head of Warriors. "Tell me, Balkan, how are you planning on moving me if you don't bring her?"

Balkan took a step closer, fire in his eyes. "Is that a challenge?"

"Oh, that's enough, both of you," Lorlen snapped at them. He sighed, closed his eyes, and all was silent as he thought through his options. When his eyes opened, they snapped straight to Akkarin. "If I allow this, you must vow not to touch her or communicate with her in any way. Will you?"

"Yes."

 _-Bring her,_ Lorlen's mental voice sounded resigned.

A minute or so later, another group of warriors, not as big as his own but still impressive, marched toward them. Despite everything, as Sonea finally appeared from behind the taller men that surrounded her, he felt a slight flutter in his heart. He couldn't help but smile- not really at seeing her again, but more a desperate relief that she was in one piece. She caught his eye, and tried to smile back, but the awfulness of the situation they both found themselves in kept her expression sombre and scared.

"You may enter together," Balkan said as the second group stopped, "but you must remain out of each other's reach."

Holding back a nasty retort, Akkarin allowed himself to nod. He looked back at Sonea, and gestured for her to come toward him. She did with trepidation in every single one of her movements. She stopped just out of arm's reach. He had never seen her look so frightened. He desperately wanted to talk to her.

 _It's going to be alright. I won't let them hurt you. Let me take the blame for everything. Please trust me. I won't let them hurt you. I won't let them hurt you._

Seeing her, and seeing her needing him to be at his best, brought back the courage that he had lost.

 _Do it for her._

He turned to Lorlen and gave him the most genuine smile he could muster. "Now, Administrator, shall we resolve this misunderstanding."

* * *

What Akkarin had said to Balkan the day before was absolutely true- he did not fear death. Death is, to the logically minded, simply the next step on the road, the next stage in the adventure that is life. Akkarin had graduated from the Guild to be one of its soldiers. And a soldier is taught that their role is, in essence, to die so that other people don't have to.

But whilst Akkarin didn't fear death, there were things that he currently feared that were just as potent. As he listened as the Higher Magicians and Captain Barran gave their testimonies, he considered his options.

He might be executed- but he somehow doubted it. No execution had taken place in…oh, a hundred years, at least. No one was quite sure how it was done- the Guild really was terrible at losing information. And the evidence that he had killed Lord Jolen and his family was not compelling, helped by the fact that he hadn't done it. What concerned him now was the Ichani Sonea had killed. There was absolutely no way he could let Sonea take the blame for something he had dragged her into. So he had to lead the Guild to believe that he killed her- and pray that Sonea played along.

Exile was the most likely outcome for him, which was, in his book, probably worse than execution. After all, he knew where he would be going. And he knew who would be waiting for him. But maybe it would be better to die at the hands of his enemies rather than his family. The family he had been trying to defend for so long. And maybe, just maybe, he could glean some information that would be useful for them. No, the real concern was that Sonea would be cast out with him. The fact that his heart leapt at the opportunity to be with her, only her, even in the most dire of places, was the most terrifying thought of them all. He had taught himself self-denial long ago, when _she_ had been kept out of his reach by taunting, laughing hands, but he had at least been sure of her love in return. This time, it would remain the saddest, most painful kind of affection of them all- one-sided.

"Akkarin of Family Delvon, House Velan, will you answer our questions truthfully?" Lorlen's question brought him back to the room full of glares and presuppositions. How ridiculous, to be distracted from such a serious meeting by thoughts of romance.

"I will."

"The swear it."

Kneeling, Akkarin allowed himself to look above the seats of the Higher Magicians for the first time. Merin stared back levelly. He wasn't like Lorlen, who could teach neutrality to experts- his face was set in a stony anger. Good to know that he was trying to remain impartial.

"I swear that all I speak in this Hearing will be the truth."

Merin's expression did not change, nor did his gaze waver, until Akkarin had risen and Sonea had knelt to take the same oath. Watching, Akkarin noticed, whilst anger still controlled his face, there was shift when the King looked at the novice. There was a hint of worry now, and Akkarin could guess what Merin was thinking- _what did the High Lord say to make you believe such awful things?_

 _Only the truth, Your Majesty. Only the truth._

As Lorlen cleared his throat, Akkarin prepared himself for the moment he had been dreading for over a decade.

"Akkarin, did you kill Lord Jolen?"

"No."

"Have you studied and practised black magic?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been studying and practising it?"

Akkarin considered- exactly how long had it been? "The first time…was eight years ago. Before I returned to the Guild."

"Did you teach yourself, or did another teach you?"

"I learned from another magician."

"Who was this magician?"

"I did not learn his name. I know only that he was Sachakan."

"So he was not of the Guild?"

"No."

All these closed questions were getting rather tiresome. Akkarin looked at his friend, with a look that he hoped said _just ask the question you want to ask, don't be a coward in front of all these people._

"Explain to us how you came to learn black magic from a Sachakan magician."

 _Finally._

"I was wondering if you would ever get around to asking. Are you all sitting comfortably? This may take a while."

* * *

Sonea made for a surprisingly good public speaker. She gave her account of events clearly and succinctly, in a voice far calmer and more measured than the last time she had given testimony in the Guildhall, at her Guardianship Hearing. But then again, maybe Akkarin was just viewing her, enjoying the opportunity to watch her through the corner of his eye, through these new eyes and new understanding.

 _Goodness me, has she always been this beautiful?_

"Where were you on the night Lord Jolen died?" Lorlen asked.

"I was with the High Lord."

"What were you doing?"

Sonea looked away from Lorlen, a slight frown on her face. That was Akkarin's only warning.

"He was teaching me black magic."

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him. What did she just say?! Did she just unravel the lie he had set up for her? He couldn't help but openly stare at her, despite all the watchers. She didn't look at him, though she must have felt his gaze.

 _Oh, you obstinate, headstrong girl!_

 _Oh, brave, brilliant Sonea_.

Why did she do that? Why? It made absolutely no sense. He had given her an out- she could say she didn't learn black magic, that the books had been planted in her room, and she could carry on her life in the Guild as it was before- well, except for chasing off Sachakan black magicians in his stead. Why would she align her path closer to his? Still, at least she hadn't had to-

"Does anyone have any more questions for Sonea?" After a suitable pause, Lorlen continued. "We will now discuss what we have—"

"Wait!" Balkan's sombre tones echoed round the Guildhall. As the Warrior turned to look upon Sonea, Akkarin knew _exactly_ what the man was going to ask her.

 _Damn it. So close._

"Did _you_ kill this Ichani woman?"

When he had been thinking through a strategy for this trial, Akkarin had thought he had worked through every possibility to ensure of the best outcome for both of them. He hadn't. As his novice raised her chin defiantly, he realised he had mistakenly left out one crucial variable.

"Yes," Sonea said fearlessly.

* * *

"You chose an inopportune time for disobedience, Sonea." Akkarin found it hard to keep the utter fury out of his voice.

"Did you really think I'd let them execute you?" she shot back.

There it was again, that unexpected display of loyalty. For the life of him, Akkarin couldn't work out where it had come from. Oh, don't misunderstand me, _that_ thought occurred to him, but he pushed to very back of mind, put it down to wishful thinking and refused to be so selfish as to contemplate it as a true possibility. He needed her to stay here. And not just for his sake.

"I need you to remain here and continue the fight," he said, as unemotionally as possible.

 _Sure, that's the reason,_ his mind mocked him.

"How can I do that, with the Guild watching my every move?" Sonea seemed to have realised that, no matter what the outcome of this trial, the power dynamic had shifted between them. They were in this together, as equals, so her deference had been flung out the window.

"Little opportunity is better than none. If nothing else, they would have you to call on as a last resort."

"If they had you, they never would have considered allowing you to live," she almost hissed. "I will not let them use me as an excuse to kill you."

Unable to hold back, he was about to turn to here, the question already forming on his lips, _why are you doing this for me?,_ when the gong rang.

Akkarin felt only the smallest twinge as he was found guilty of the use of black magic- after all, they were not wrong. But when they found Sonea guilty of the same thing, that stung far greater than any of the insults Balkan had tried to throw at him the previous day.

"We have chosen exile as Akkarin's punishment." If Lorlen was upset or even surprised by that decision, his voice didn't show it. "Akkarin of family Delvon, of House Velan, you are no longer welcome in the Allied Lands. You will be escorted to the nearest non-allied country. Do you accept this judgement?"

Akkarin knelt, and looked above his former seat. He wanted the Merin to own his decision "If the King wills it."

Merin looked slightly surprised, but held his gaze levelly. "I do."

"Then I will go."

Akkarin had meant it when he said he would co-operate. He really had. If they wanted to exile him, let them, and on their own stupid heads be it. And there was absolutely, absolutely no way he was going to show any sign of fear in front of this mob. He would go with a straight back and dry eyes- let that be how they remembered him.

 _Even if you are afraid, don't you dare show it._

As he had risen, Lorlen had turned to Sonea.

"Sonea. We, the Higher Magicians, have decided to offer you a second chance. You will remain here with us under these conditions: you must vow to never use black magic again. You will not be allowed to leave the Guild grounds from this day, and you will never be allowed to teach others. Do you accept this punishment?"

Sonea blinked at him, then looked away. Her face went white, her lips pressed together into a thin line and her hands clenched into tight fists. Akkarin could hear her breath coming shakily. For a good thirty seconds, she stood just like that, a hundred baited breaths being held. Akkarin didn't, however. He knew _exactly_ what she was thinking, and what she about to do.

"Sonea, do you accept this judgement?" Lorlen asked eventually.

She looked back at him, a ferocity in her stare the likes of which the Guildhall had never seen before.

"No," she replied menacingly.

"Stay," he said, one last ditch attempt to control her. "There's no sense in us both going."

"I made a promise to Takan to take care of you. I intend to keep it."

 _Oh, thanks, Takan._

"Sonea—" he began, but the look she turned on him almost made him flinch. _Don't you start,_ it said. _Don't you become what they are- short-sighted, stubborn, misogynistic idiots._ So he silenced himself.

* * *

"I cast you out, Akkarin. Do not enter my lands again."

"I cast you out, Akkarin. Do not enter my lands again."

"I cast you out Akkarin. Do not enter my lands again."

Over and over. Again and again. Magician upon magician. A never ending line of judgement and rejection. He was surprised by how upsetting he found it. How many times had he complained about these people? How many times had their antics had made him want to pull his hair out in frustration? He and Lorlen had made their "little family" jokes so many times, he had forgotten something crucial. That this _was_ his family. These were the only people that had truly accepted him for who he was and actually wanted him. And like all families, it could drive one to distraction, but you still love them and want what's best for them. Because, at the end of all things, you cannot choose your family. But this particular family can choose to be rid of you, with just the rip of cloth.

He wondered how Sonea felt about it. He supposed that she hadn't been here long enough, or indeed experienced enough of the Guild's good side to feel anything more than frustration at their obtuseness. When he turned ever-so-slightly to look at her, he could see a numbness in her expression. But she looked every magician in the eye steadily as they completed the ritual ripping, even if they could not meet hers.

Finally, the end of the long line was in sight. But not before one last confrontation. Rothen edged toward him, rage making him tense. Akkarin understood, and even respected the alchemist for it. _If it had been my daughter, I would feel exactly the same._

"As long as I am alive, no harm will come to her. You have my word," he said, hoping the words would be of at least a little comfort. Perhaps it was words, or maybe it was the image of him dead, but the fury in Rothen's face reduced slightly at that.

"I will hold you to that," he said icily. Akkarin nodded, expecting nothing less. He turned his head when Rothen moved to Sonea and embraced her. Guilt pounded through him as he considered how he had ripped them apart- that had been Sonea's family. Now he truly understood what he had done to them. He wasn't sure he could have done it if he had known had awful this would feel.

The symbolic words completed, there was nothing left to do. He rolled his shoulders, took a steadying breath, and turned to Lorlen.

"So, where is it that you're sending us off to, again?"

 **This was way harder to write than I was expecting it to be, so much to put in! I hope it just about worked. You're all incredibly loved, simply by reading this! Cece xox**


	49. Not Exactly Part Of The Plan

Chapter Forty-Nine: Not Exactly Part Of The Plan

"So, what happens if they get caught by these…Ichani?"

"Well, chances are they will kill Akkarin," Takan replied slowly. Cery took in the ashen pallor of the man's skin and realised that he wasn't exaggerating. He almost felt guilty for asking, but he needed to know. "They won't want to, but it will be a risk keeping him alive. They'll consider him too much of a threat. Plus, Kariko is blood bound to seek revenge for the death of his brother, Davoka, whom Akkarin killed."

 _Blood bound?_ That sounded…horrifying.

"And Sonea?" Cery asked.

Takan winced, and looked away. "You don't want to know."

"Actually, I—"

Takan held up a hand. "Thief, if you know what's good for you, don't ask me to elaborate," he interrupted. "All I will say is that it is not in the nature of Ichani to show mercy. And death, for them, is a form of mercy."

Cery took a deep breath. "Fine, I think I get the message anyway."

He took in everything that Takan had said, rocking slightly on the stool he was perched on. Of all the contingencies Akkarin had set up, this was not one of them. But right now, he wasn't feeling much pity for the man.

 _You promised me you would take care of her. How is_ this _taking care of her?! Oh, if I ever get my hands of you…well I won't be able to do anything, but in my imagination you are begging for mercy._

He simply could not for the life of him understand why Sonea had been dragged so far into this. Exile. The girl he had spent most of his childhood with, the one who was always pulling him back from taking things too far, the one who always questioned the morality of what they did, was being exiled. He _never_ would have got involved in all this if he thought she could be compromised in the slightest way.

In his defence, Akkarin had said after he brought her to see the Sachakan he had tied up that he wasn't planning on bringing her again. So…what had changed his plans? And why had Sonea gone along with it? He had seen her there that night, she had made a conscious choice to kill that woman. Sure, the woman would have done the same to her, and had probably gone on to kill many more people, but that still wasn't the choice the Sonea he had grown up with would have made.

He remembered her feelings about him wanting to join the Thieves. She had never voiced it, but the expression on her face and the way she would awkwardly change the conversation told him that she disapproved of him joining such a clan. But now she was killing people? How did that work? But then again, maybe she, like him, had realised that sometimes once you know the truth, you have to do what is right, even if it's not easy. Even if it doesn't look right to everyone around you.

Takan let out a gruff sound of disapproval. "They're leaving now," he said, shaking his head. "They're not even willing to wait until morning, the bastards."

Cery looked at the man, stunned. " _Now_? As in, right this minute?!"

"My Kyralian isn't perfect, but I do know how—"

Before Takan had even finished his sentence, Cery was running. Out the door of his favourite hide-out where he was putting up Akkarin's former servant, up the many flights of stairs to the attic room. He had, by some serendipitous circumstances, managed to acquire the entire house, basement and all, which was proving useful to get to rooftops in record speed. Some of the Thieves would have jeered at him for using the High Road, saying that they were masters of the tunnels under the city and had no need of such public routes. But Cery would have to politely disagree. Why reduce yourself to being the lord of one domain when you can be the lord of two?

Once on the High Road, it wasn't difficult to know which way to go- all he had to do was follow the people that were gathering in large numbers. Picking his way across the rooftops wasn't as easy as running down a cobbled street, however, and began to worry that he wasn't going to make it. Stopping, he judged the direction of the crowded streets, and made a prediction as to which gate that Akkarin and Sonea would leave through.

Whilst difficult, he always enjoyed using the rooftops. It was always quieter than down on the streets, the hum of voices muted by distance and the wind. Focusing his mind on the task of getting from one roof to the next gave his mind a distracting task to focus on, when he was in the middle of trying to solve a difficult problem and needed a break. It reminded him of the times he had done this as a child, during simpler times. Time spent with friends- namely Sonea. Grief for the innocence they had both lost fell over him then like a shadow, and he almost tripped on an uneven tile.

 _I shouldn't blame Akkarin. I was the one who persuaded her to join the Guild in the first place. I am the reason she is in this mess. If anything happens to her, I will never forgive myself._

He overestimated how long it would take him to make it to a spot where he could see the road leading up to the gate, so he had to wait for a little time, the increasing volume of the crowd letting him know he wouldn't have to wait much longer.

He was surprised when a nervous apprehension overcame him. Anxiety was not a sensation he was used to feeling- if you want to make it as a Thief, you have to be able to keep your heartbeat steady and your nerve intact. But something about today, something about not knowing what he was about to see and knowing whatever it was, he was going to despise it, was sending his pulse racing.

And suddenly, there they were.

The Guard was made up of all young warriors, except one man who was in green which, if Cery had remembered Sonea's lessons correctly, meant that he was a Healer. They all looked sullen, the same disinterested look in their eyes as could be seen in the magicians involved in the Purge, except they looked more tense this time round.

A man in black robes stood out from the rest of the group. Akkarin had a face like thunder. He was gripping the reins of his horse unnecessarily tightly, and he was obstinately not making eye contact with anyone. Cery wondered at that- normally the man's demeanour was so well controlled that you had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. But then again, it wasn't every day that you get thrown out of your country for trying to protect it.

And then…his heart skipped when he saw her. The brown robes the novices wore were easily to overlook in an environment like this, but he would spot her face in any crowd. But it was far paler than usual, and he had never seen Sonea look so frightened, not even when she was on the run from the Guild. As a stone was thrown at her, Sonea easily held it back with a magical shield, but she looked genuinely shocked. She looked in the direction the stone had come, a confused hurt in her eyes. Perhaps it was the idea that her own people were turning their backs on her. Perhaps it was the irony of knowing she had once done exactly the same thing. Perhaps she just couldn't believe any of this was happening. Cery didn't know her well enough any more to be able to tell, and that in and of itself angered him.

 _Look up! Look up, damn you!_ He screamed his thoughts at her, hoping that, by some magical ability that she had, maybe she would hear him. He wanted her to see at least one friendly face before she was shown the back door. He wanted, at least in some way, to be able to say goodbye. But she didn't look up.

A red-robed magician, a little older than most of his companions, with a black sash around his waist, held up a hand, and the entire group halted. He cleared his throat and began in an unnaturally loud voice:

"Remember the faces of these two magicians. They are Akkarin, former High Lord of the Magicians' Guild and Sonea, former novice of the High Lord. They have been cast out of the Guild and exiled from the Allied Lands for the crime of practising black magic."

Suddenly, Cery understood the anger he had seen on Akkarin's face.

He didn't understand much about what was going on between Kyralia and Sachaka, but what he did know was that Akkarin was single-handedly (well, up until recently, at least) fending off an attack that could decimate the entire country. He knew some form of magic that the rest of the Guild didn't, and that magic was the only way of stopping these foreign magicians from taking over. So by announcing his departure, the Guild were effectively calling for invasion- and not just of the Guild, but the entire city, country and Allied Lands. All could fall, simply because the Guild wanted to make an example of its leader.

 _This is not exactly part of the plan…_

"You know, I always thought that Kyralians were soft. But that judgement the Guild just made- that was cold," a voice said softly behind him. Savara.

"The Guild offers short shrift when their rules are disregarded," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, Cery. I wish there was something I could do."

He turned ever so slightly, so he could see her in the corner of his eye. "You could have done something. You chose not to."

She sighed sadly. He felt her hand on his back, warm and comforting. "There's not much I can say that would be of comfort, save this- if there is any man who could keep her alive out there, it's him. He has far more talents than you have yet seen. Don't count him out just yet."

"I can only hope you're right."

Her voice changed then, becoming warm like honey. "Why don't you come back with me? I can think of a few things we could do that may be able to distract you."

"In a minute- you go on." He turned back to her and smiled as best he could. Even squatting on an uneven rooftop, she still managed to look like the queen of all she surveyed. She was beautiful. "I follow you."

She nodded, seeming to understand, then rose to pick her way back across the rooftops.

Turning back to watch the entourage, Cery realised that, what he had seen as a fight between magicians in a land about which he knew nothing, this battle was about to come much closer to home. Much closer. And he was going to have to prepare for it, even if the Guild wasn't. Debts needed to be called in, old alliances resurrected. If these Ichani thought they could just take the city as the white flag of surrender flew high, then they were laughably misinformed.

As the party left the outer wall, Cery saw Sonea look back at the city, her city, and his heart twisted at the look of fear in her eyes. Though whether that fear was for herself, or for the home she was leaving, he couldn't quite tell.

 _Stay safe out there,_ he thought at her.

Then he rose, a new determination flowing through him. Sonea had done her bit for this, their home, and he had to do his. It was time to get out the war drums- the future of Kyralia, of democracy herself, was being held ransom.

 **I have now published over 100,000 words, according to the word counter on here. Can you believe that?! That is INSANE. Thank you so much for your reviews of the last chapter, particularly seeing as the layout was messed up by the doc manager! It was supposed to be divided into sections, with asterisks, so I'm really sorry about that, but hey, you can't have everything. Now, are you ready to go to Sachaka? Cece xox**


	50. A Question of Loyalty

Chapter Fifty: A Question of Loyalty

 _You had better take care of her._

They were just words. Only words. Seven angry, spiteful words, to be sure, but words can't hurt you…can they?

Such were Akkarin's thoughts as he sat watching the sun sink below the Sachakan horizon, trying his best to ignore the stifling heat. He had forgotten how hot this hell hole was, and to think he had once had the audacity to complain about Kyralian summers. He dangled one foot over the edge of cave as he considered the assistant's seven words, rolling the phrase over and over in his mind. He couldn't for the life of him understand why Osen's retort was having such a hold on him. He remembered staring at the young man after he had said them, holding back a torrent of foul language and accusations of his own. But at the heart of the many words he wanted to fire back with, one response lay true in his heart.

 _As angry as I am at her, as insubordinate as she is, do you really expect me to do_ anything _else but take care of her?_

He had sworn to Rothen he would keep her safe. He had also sworn it to himself. And he had, in the silence of his heart, sworn it to Sonea herself, in moments on the ride to Sachaka when he couldn't help but look at her. He looked at her as the only little spark of light in a world that had suddenly become very dark indeed. And he absolutely intended on keeping all three of those oaths. Of one thing he was certain: she would not die. Not out here, not in this hell hole.

He knew he shouldn't, but turned to look at her again, now, now that they were alone- and on the run. She was still fast asleep.

 _I won't let them hurt you. Not now, not ever._

He tried to forget what it had been like to hold her, as he had the night before when he had pushed her off the cliff edge. He tried to forget the perfect softness of her slight form against him as he had levitated them to safety, even as she relaxed against him as she recognised him. Her scent, her heartbeat, the brush of her fingertips, he wanted to be rid of all of them. But he couldn't be. They went around his head on a constant loop- taunting, testing, terrifying. They gave him just enough material to imagine what it would be like to…to…No. Stop. Not that. Looking away from her, he desperately tried to make his mind think about something else.

The only other thing it would allow him to settle on was this rather dire situation they found themselves in.

There were no easy choices.

He _could_ choose to run away. He could get them both as far from all of this as he possibly could. He could take her somewhere safe, leaving the past behind them. Balkan said he had washed his hands of him, so why couldn't he do that to Guild? But he knew, even as he thought that, he could _never_ abandon them. No matter what they did to him, no matter how they felt about him, he wouldn't leave them to face this terror alone. Because, in his mind, he was _still_ High Lord. He was _still_ their Papa. And parents will always stand between their children and the enemy. Always. He could not question such a loyalty, one that had been instilled in him seventeen years prior and was as much as part of him as his limbs were.

That left him with his other option- to do what he could to stop the Ichani now, out here. If he was careful, he could get close enough to hear what they were planning to do. But the other side of his heart protested at this- _because it's not just you out here though, is it?_ It said. _She gave up her opportunity to be safe and comfortable, at least for a time, to come here with you, to protect you, and you want to put her at an unnecessarily heightened risk of death? What kind of man are you, exactly?_ He shifted uncomfortably at the question he posed himself, knowing why it was so hard to answer.

Because here's the thing about history; nothing is ever new. Nothing ever changes. If events surprise you, you weren't paying enough attention to the world around you. Revolutions come and go, evil rises and falls, lovers win and lose, it's all happened before. All history ever does is cycle, over and over and over again in a loop none of us can control. Akkarin knew this. He had seen this particular pattern of events before- his heart being lost to someone just out of reach, in a land that offered no mercy. He could see the end just as the story began. And if this had been a book he had been reading, he may well have shut it at this point. But he wasn't reading, he was living. And try as we might, we cannot shut the book of our own life.

Then he heard the subject of his heart's protests stirring behind him. He quickly schooled his expression, from one of complete desperation to one of absolute control, and turned to regard her. Her dark eyes immediately met his. _Dark, beautiful eyes…_

"So. You're awake at last. Get up." _Well, that sounded a little less harsh in my head._ "We must get as much distance as possible between us and the Pass."

As he rose, she did the same, though a little less steadily than he. "What time is it?" she asked, voice croaky from sleep.

"Nearly dusk."

She frowned at him. "Did you sleep?"

"I kept watch." From now on, he was going to keep his answers simple and to the point. The less you say, the easier it is to conceal the truth.

"We should watch in turns."

 _And have you witness one of my nightmares? No, thank you._

She came to stand next to him, and took in a deep breath as she noticed the deep drop beneath them. He wondered if she had a fear of heights- that would not be idea, as they had no choice but to levitate to get out of the cave that he had hidden them in. He turned to her and, trying not to show his hesitation in any way, grasped her shoulder lightly.

"Let me do that," she said, realising what he meant to do. Of course, didn't let her. He noticed Sonea was watching him carefully as he levitated them higher, but refused to make eye contact. Not when she was standing this close to him, close enough to once again be able to smell her unique scent. It was with relief when he found a level plane that he could settle them on, so he could let her go and step away.

He considered the ground he had placed them on. One of the only weaknesses that the Ichani had, aside from not knowing how to heal, was the tramping they left behind them. No other creature alive in the wastes would leave such tracks. That made them easy to follow- to a point. You needed, of course, to know who you were following. He certainly didn't want to end up spending days hurrying after a slave. Here, as he knelt and considered the rusty ground, he could spot two different prints in the sand, heading in opposite directions. One was headed further into the wastes, the other was headed south. He started to follow the one headed into the wastes, hoping it would continue, then noticed how the pattern of the prints changed as they reached the top of the rise. They were the less well-formed tracks of someone speeding up, then heading into a full run. He cursed softly, hoping Sonea didn't hear. Ichani never run anywhere, not if they can help it. These must be the tracks of a slave, being sent of on a task. A message, perhaps, or to get supplies. That meant the tracks headed south must be the ones of the Ichani that slave served. With a sigh of frustration, he turned around, walked back past Sonea, who was watching him with interest, and carried on down the slope. He listened out to here if she was following him. She did, taking almost double the number of his strides he took to keep up with him. He supposed she deserved some kind of explanation.

"It is as I feared. He continued southward instead of descend toward the wastes," he tossed over his shoulder.

"So, where are we going?" she called after him.

"Away from the Pass."

"Why?" He resisted the urge to laugh. Despite the openly cold shoulder he had given her for the past week or so, she still wasn't afraid to openly question him. He tried to ignore the fact he found that an attractive quality in her- for so long, no one had been able to openly speak to him. If it wasn't for the situation they found themselves in, he might have even thanked her for it.

"I intend on doing a little spying," he replied. "When I find the Ichani, I will send messages of what I see to the Guild."

He heard her let out a breath of surprise. Her steps quickened, and her voice came clearer when she next spoke as she tried to catch up with him. "The Ichani will hear you. They'll know you're watching. They'll—"

Now her questioning was less attractive and more irritating. His short temper, fuelled from the two very conflicting parts of his conscience, lack of sleep and the stifling heat, boiled over. He stopped and turned back to her. She had to suddenly halt so as not to collide with him. "Why did you come, Sonea?" He snapped at her. The question he had been desperate to ask for over a week, ever since the trial, was finally torn out of him.

She blinked at the question, but answered quickly, holding her ground. "You need me more than the Guild does."

He stared at her. "Need you?" he said, genuinely surprised. "I don't need some half trained, disobedient novice to protect."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. _That_ was too far, and unfair.

Because words can and do hurt. Any of the ancient Kyralian poets that were worth their salt would have told you that words have the power to create and the power to destroy. With just the briefest of sentences, you can build an entire city, then pull it down. Words can make you laugh, then make you cry. Words can fill you with hate, then make you fall in love…

But at the same time, his words did exactly as he had hoped- they pushed her even away. Out of opportunity, out of temptation. He tried to ignore the look of hurt he caught on her face as he swiftly turned away from her and continued down the slope. _I am protecting her,_ he reasoned. _This is the only way._ Then he heard the sound of feet coming up quickly behind him.

Sonea moved in front of him and blocked his path. It occurred to him then that out of her novice uniform, she looked completely different. Though she looked older, he was more aware of the smallness of her, her fragility, but also the very solid fact that _she wasn't a novice._ She was not someone who he could command, not anymore. Her dark hair, untied and untame, framed her pale skin perfectly, and moved gracefully with her as she stepped up to him. She stopped inches from him, and he could feel heat radiating off her.

"Oh, I get it. This is all somehow _my fault_ in your mind, isn't it? Well, if that ill-considered plan you just told me is what you're truly intending to follow, then you obviously _do_ need me." She glared up at him, fists clenched painfully tight, clearly happy to have a duel of tongues.

"Ill-considered or not, why should I include you in my plans when you are so disinclined to follow them?" Well, so was he.

"I am only disinclined to follow plans that will get you killed," she snapped back.

She was close enough now for him to smell the faint scent of her sweat. Delicate, fragrant. He took a deep breath and, hoping it didn't give her the impression she had won the argument, turned away and continued his march down the slope. "Your presence has complicated things. I cannot do what I intended. I will have to reconsider what I… _we_ will do now." _Because it's not just you out here though, is it?_

He heard her jog slightly to catch up with him. "You don't really intend to spy on the Ichani and communicate what you saw the Guild, did you?" She sounded scared. He realised he may have gone too far.

"Yes and no," he replied, wanting to placate her, but also wanting her to work it out on her own. If she had the gumption to drag herself along, she could work out what he wanted to do.

"If they hear you, they will be able to work out where you are hiding."

"Of course."

She was silent for a time, then he heard her stop walking. "Well, I guess showing them _that_ will definitely convince the Guild the Ichani exist."

Realising what she had incorrectly concluded, he stopped to, and looked behind him. "I did not mean to imply that I intended to sacrifice myself. The Ichani will not hear if I communicate through Lorlen."

"I see," she said stiffly. As she blushed hotly, and rather beautifully in his opinion, and he quickly looked away again.

 _Oh, pull yourself together, man. You were a High Lord not long ago, not some novice with an overactive imagination._

For the rest of the walk, they were silent. Some of the tension had left the void between them, and their lack of conversation was much more to do with focusing on where they were placing their feet rather than anything else. After an hour or so, they reached a convenient cliff base. Deciding it was time for a rest, and a general look of the land showed it was as safe as it was going to get, Akkarin sat down with his back to the cliff base. Sonea followed suit, a soft sigh leaving her as she sat.

Now there was a different kind of silence hanging between them, and it was far less comfortable, at least for Akkarin. He felt the hundreds of unspoken words he desperately wanted to say piling up between them.

 _I'm so glad you're here with me._

 _I'm so sorry for all the things I've put you through._

 _I wish there was a way I could make it up to you._

 _I wish I could tell you how I feel about you._

 _How do you feel about me?_

He was almost grateful when the silhouette of a yeel appeared on the distant horizon, stopping him from voicing any of those thoughts he would only ever regret saying.

"We have company," he said. When Sonea glanced at him, he pointed, and she followed his directions.

"It's an animal," she said eventually.

"Yes, a yeel. They are a smaller, domestic breed of yimek. The Ichani train them to track and hunt." As if on cue, the outline of a woman came into view. "See, its master follows."

"Another Ichani?" she asked.

"Probably." He felt a twinge of fear, but told himself there was no way that they could be seen here, it was becoming too dark to see much further than a few feet.

"Will he be able to track us?" He could hear the same fear he felt in her voice. But he wasn't going to lie to her to make her feel better- she deserved the truth.

"If her yeel tracks our scent."

He heard her take a deep breath. "What now?"

He considered. There were still no easy choices. He still couldn't shut the book. "I don't like wasting power levitating, but we will be safer higher up. We must find a crack or fold in the cliff to hide within as we go up."

"And then?"

"We find water and food." _And try not to get caught, be tortured and die whilst we're at it._

"Up there?" she sounded incredulous.

He nodded, despite the fact she probably could not see him in the gathering dark. "It may seem desolate, but a little life can be found if you know where to look. It will grow easier the further south we go."

She looked straight at him then. "So, we're going south?"

By putting the question to him, she was making him choose. So he closed his eyes, breathed deeply and made his final decision, He couldn't live with himself if he didn't at least try to protect his home. He looked up at the sky, and wished upon the Sachakan stars above them that he would be able to keep the her safe at the same time. "Yes. South."

He rose, preparing himself for yet another tiring expedition across the wastes. Without thinking, he turned and offered her his hand. As soon as she took it, he felt the shock waves run through him. He pulled her to her feet quickly, and let her palm slip away from his as soon as he could, not letting her get to close to him. He turned away, unease coursing through him. Not just because of the feelings she stirred in him, but also because he felt his loyalty once again been pulled in different directions. After all, he hadn't felt a frisson like that since…well, do I need to tell you?

 **Welcome to Sachaka, everyone! I'm so stoked to say that not only is this story 100,000 words strong, it's had over** **10,000** **views- that honestly made me blush- just not beautifully, haha! Anyway- THANK YOU. It means the world to me.**


	51. What News From Kyralia?

Chapter Fifty-One: What News From Kyralia?

Nothing, I repeat, nothing, beats the peace one can find in a library. Libraries are, to the gentle minded, a place to be alone, to escape from the world and to _think_. Their quiet rooms and book filled corridors give such places an almost sacred hush. And, converse to other buildings, the larger a library is, the more peace that can be found. Which is why the Great Library of Elyne was considered one of the great sanctuaries of Capia. Filled with knowledge and the chance for solitude, there are not many people who would struggle to enjoy spending time here, if they were willing to set aside more worldly pleasures for an hour or so. Not even a bad mood could take away from the peace of this place. And Tayend of Tremmalin was in a particularly bad mood.

It was bad enough that half of his soul had been pulled from him to report back to Kyralia, but now Irand had send him on a wild goose chase to find references to an ancient Elyne artist for a noble at court. Tayend cursed the man softly under his breath as he almost dropped a particularly valuable text. Why didn't the man just come down here and do his research for himself?! Oh, but of course, that would be beneath him. So, here Tayend was, a well-regarded scholar, a highly successful linguist and proficient academic, demoted to hefting giant tomes around the place so that some portly courtier could play the great philosopher. It was almost too much to bear.

As he finally reached his destination, he realised, with a grunt of frustration, that he didn't have a free hand to open the door to Irand's office. He considered knocking, but he knew the crotchety old man on the other side of the door would just shout at him to do it himself.

 _Where is my tamed, handsome magician when I need him?_

Dannyl's sudden departure with his little rogue had been unsettling for them both, particularly at such a delicate stage in their relationship. Tayend's spies at court had already heard the whispers of a new piece of gossip, one that had far more weight to it than the previous ones. Tayend felt a wave of guilt, then annoyance at himself for feeling that way. Why should _he_ feel guilty? They had broken no laws, the only offences they had committed were social ones. There should be no shame in being in love. But whilst the Elynes thought the situation amusing, the Guild wouldn't. And this could all come back to haunt Dannyl for a very long time, and that was where the source of Tayend's guilt lay. So, he was in a bad mood.

With an effort, he managed to use an elbow to push the door handle down, and then slammed it shut with a plimsole-clad foot once inside.

"You know what would make this job far, far easier?" he said, dropping the books down with a bang on the heavy oak table.

Irand looked up from his desk that was positioned at the head of the table Tayend stood at and glared at him. "By all the known saints, Tayend, if you dare mention that stupid cataloguing system again—"

"It's not stupid, Irand, I am serious," Tayend said. "Look, all the other great museums and places of learning across the Allied Lands are doing it, I've seen it. The world is changing. If the library is going to survive, we need to modernise."

Irand's expression became dangerous. "Young Tremmalin, this place was old before you were even a flicker in your mother's womb, and it will still be here long after your name has been eroded away on your gravestone." He pointed his pen at Tayend imperiously. "Don't insult the library by attempting to change it just because you noticed a few differences in how some old professor in Lonmar organises his modest display of books on your travels."

Tayend let out a slight snort of amusement, and began to sort the books, checking the names against the list of titles that he had been given. He realised there was really no point having this argument today, Irand was clearly not in the mood to listen. "You're in as a good a humour as me today, I see."

Irand only grunted in response, and went back to the notes he was making from a book of ancient poetry that he had propped up next to him. A knock came at the office door.

"Enter," Irand called. A young messenger came in, bowed and approached Irand, letter in hand.

"Ah, it's from the Guild," Irand said, in a slightly more cheerful voice, taking the letter from the messenger. Tayend looked up quickly, noting the flash of the gold Guild seal on the envelope that had Irand's name neatly inscribed upon it.

"Anything for me with it?" he asked the messenger, trying to sound casual.

"I'm afraid not, sorry, sir," the young man replied. He bowed again and left the room. Tayend thought he noticed an unnecessary anxiety in the messenger's gait as he hurried out. He sighed quietly- still no letter from the Guild.

He had to admit he was a little irritated at Dannyl. He must have been back in Kyralia for, oh, a fortnight now at least, and yet he still hadn't written. But then again, perhaps the situation with Farand was taking up a lot of time. There were probably endless meetings to be held, statements to be made, and a trial to be organised too. Still, it wouldn't take Dannyl quarter of an hour just to write that he and his charge had arrived safely, surely…

"So, what news from Kyralia?" Tayend asked nonchalantly, trying to distract himself from such thoughts. He knew Irand had kept up a regular correspondence with the old Guild historian, Solend, for many years, which had allowed the Guild and Library to informally share news and, not that either man would ever admit it, gossip. Indeed, Tayend had even wondered if their correspondence was a sign of a deeper relationship between the two men, but had the educated politeness to have never asked, as much as he may have wanted to.

When Irand didn't reply to his question, Tayend looked up from his sorting. The librarian's face had gone completely white, and he seemed to be reading and rereading the script on the page as if it wasn't making sense to him. "Irand? What is it?"

The librarian looked at him with a terrible stare, eyes wide. "Sit down, Tayend," he said softly. "This is not good news."

Tayend felt fear rush through him as he sat down on the nearest chair to him. "Dannyl—" he began.

Irand held up a placatory hand. "No, it's not about him. Well, not specifically."

"Oh," Tayend said, relief began to replace his anxiety, then curiosity silenced both. "Well, what is it, then?"

Irand swallowed thickly. "It appears that the Guild is about to come under siege from a band of evil-magic-wielding bandits from the Sachakan wastelands," Irand began calmly, as if reciting a passage from one of the many history books that covered the walls. "Once the Guild is destroyed, which seems almost inevitable, they will come for the rest of the Allied Lands. We're all about to be eradicated, it seems."

Silence filled the room as Tayend couldn't do anything except gape at the old man. "I'm sorry- let me get this straight. The Guild is about to be… attacked? By a group of people they can't defeat?!"

"It seems that way- Solend thinks their chances of driving out this 'Ichani', as they are called, before they are able to take over Imardin, are almost null."

"I have never heard of…Ichani? Have you?"

"The word echoes in my head like the lyrics of a song I used to know, but I couldn't tell you any more than that."

"But how could this…band, you say, defeat all of the Guild? There are at least a hundred magicians in Imardin!"

"Apparently this particular type of magic makes them very strong, ten times as strong as the average magician. So, all they need is ten of them to rival the entire Guild."

Tayend considered this for a little time. He noticed how his hands had started to shake. Then the full meaning of Irand's last comment came to him. "Elyne is the nearest of the Allied Lands to Kyralia," he said softly.

Irand nodded shakily. "Quite."

"So they'll… be here next. If the Allied Lands is what they want, Elyne is the next logical step."

"Unless the Guild can find some way to stop them in less than a week." Irand passed a hand over his face.

"Well, does the High Lord have a plan?"

"Well now we get to it," the Librarian looked back to the letter, and pointed himself to a passage of the text. "The High Lord and his novice have both been found guilty of learning the same magic that these Sachakans use and have been exiled. So no, he doesn't appear to have a plan. It's all on King Merin at this point." With that, Irand put his elbows on the desk and put his clenched fists to his temples.

Suddenly, Tayend remembered the book he had found in Royend's house- the one that explained the 'higher magics' they had only found brief references to before. He remembered how Dannyl's face had paled, how he had slammed the book shut with brutal force and pushed it away from him with all his might. The way he had suddenly decided that they needed to confront Royend much earlier than intended. He had never properly explained his reaction to Tayend, but now the pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together in the scholar's head, pulled by the invisible thread of understanding. What if that book contained information on how to use the same magic that these Sachakans used? And, therefore, what if Dannyl had discovered evidence that the High lord had learnt the same thing? No wonder he had looked as ill as he had.

But none of that really mattered now. At any rate, the Guild was about to be attacked, and without a leader to guide them or the resources to protect them. And the love of his life was there- probably feeling rather alone and very, very scared. The thought of Dannyl, and the possibility of not saying goodbye, made Tayend feel sick to his stomach. No, he couldn't allow Dannyl to

"Well, then there's only one thing for it," he mused aloud.

Irand lifted his head out of his hands. "Oh, and what would that be?"

"I need to go to Kyralia." Tayend stood, and started making a mental list of all things he needed to do before he left. All the things he needed to pack, all the apologies he would need to write. Considering the lack of time he had, he would have to go by ship- regardless of how much he hated it. A carriage would take far too long.

Irand was shaking his head at him. "Tayend, I don't think you understand. They—"

"I understand perfectly, thank you Irand," Tayend said, interrupting him for the second time. "But if anyone- you, the Guild or these evil magic wielding bandits, thinks I am going to leave Dannyl, the best thing that has ever happened to me, to face such an awful thing alone, then you are all dreaming. He needs me. So I'm going. He went to Irand, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Goodbye, my dear friend. Until we meet again."

Irand managed a weak smile. Tayend smiled back, hoping that he looked more confident than he felt, and strode out of the room, swiftly made his way to the entrance to the library. He hoped that the carriage that normally standing by was available. As he almost ran down the marbled halls, something occurred to him.

Suddenly, the library didn't feel as peaceful any more.

 **So I have a lot of people who read my story who come from Europe/ the EU. Firstly, thank you for being here! Secondly, can I just say on behalf of my entire nation... I am really, really sorry. I hate to bring up the word, but Brexit is the most messed up thing I have witnessed in all my years of being alive, and you guys must be as sick of it as we are. I am so sorry, we are acting like unwelcoming, childish amateurs. We, the people that is, still love the EU. We still want to be friends. Sending love across the channel. In much happier news, I'll be back soon with a chapter I started writing a looong time ago, and now I get to share it with you…finally. Cece xox**


	52. Finally

Chapter Fifty Two:…Finally

The meal had been simple, but surprisingly good. The feeling of having survived yet another night was a strange mixture of exhilaration and weariness. But Akkarin told himself to focus on the good right now. He was alive. So was Sonea, and they weren't in iminant danger. That's all they could ask for right now.

Sonea sat across from him, taking in their surroundings with a peaceful interest. He had to remind himself that he had had the dubious pleasure of having spent much time in such environments, whereas all she had ever known was the city they had been exiled from. This place must be quite a curiosity to her. But she looked tired, drained and…well, sad. And to think he had been _angry_ with her for coming, believing she was being deliberately difficult. How could he have thought such a thing? She had chosen to come out here with him, and had defied everyone in order to do so. With that thought, a wave of gratitude and ardour washed over him. He was grateful for her being here, for her giving him a reason to carry on, to focus on the good. But if he was honest with himself, he had been grateful for her, and her strange, but wonderful, life for a very long time, longer than he was happier to admit. Perhaps it was time to say so.

"Sonea?" her name was on his lips before he had properly thought through what he was about to do.

"Yes?"

"Thank you…for coming with me." He thought he heard a small snatch of breath, but she didn't say anything. She looked away, deep in thought. He quickly carried on before he lost his nerve. Words he had wanted to say for months. Words that his aching heart demanded he owned and spoke. "I…regret separating you from Rothen. I know he was more like a father than a teacher."

She lifted her head and looked straight at him then, her gaze piercing and calculating, even in the dim light.

"It was necessary," he continued, his voice almost sounding pleading.

She nodded softly. "I know. I understand." Oh, what was this girl made of, that she could just forgive with a beat of her heart? But then again, it had taken them a long time to get here, to this point.

"But you didn't understand then. You hated me."

A soft breath of amusement left her, but her voice came calm and soft. "I don't anymore."

It was far too tempting to probe her, to ask her more about how she felt about him now. He told himself just because she didn't hate him, did not mean that she cared for him, not by any stretch of the mark. It would be completely unfair on her to go further this conversation. He had done what he had set out to do, even if it had left emotions swirling around inside him like a maelstrom. So, he withdrew. Standing, he went to the makeshift bed she had made. He was already bone tired, and a calm at settled over him, now that he felt that he had made his peace with her, so it didn't take him long to feel himself start to fall asleep. The last thing he saw as he drifted from consciousness was Sonea, looking out into the valley, hugging her legs close to her chest. Thinking hard.

 _Keeping low behind the tents, Akkarin made it to the other side of the campsite without being seen. He paused, wanting to make sure Leila would be alright. In horror, Akkarin could only watch as Dakova's face snapped over to where she was hiding. He stalked over, and grabbed her by her waist, pulling her back in front of the tents._

" _Ah, there you are, my pretty one."_

 _Leila immediately got down on her knees to kneel before him. "Master, I apologise. I needed to—"_

" _Oh, shut up. Where's that lover of yours? My pet magician has apparently decided to become a fugitive."_

" _I don't k—"_

 _A slap, like the crack of a whip, echoed across the campsite._

" _Oh, please master, don't—" she whimpered._

" _I will do what I like, you disobedient whore! What is the point of you if you don't do as you're told?"_

" _But I have never disobeyed you!"_

 _From Akkarin's vantage point, he could just hear the sigh, a sigh so soft and yet so menacing. "Oh Leila, Leila, if only that were true. You know what I do to disobedients, don't you?"_

 _The sound of a blade being removed from a scabbard , and Akkarin made himself back away. When he wasn't in danger of being seen standing upright, he sprinted in the direction of the mines._

 _But not before-_

 _Someone was grabbing his arm. It was like someone was trying to shake him. Was that his name he heard, whistling on the Sachakan wind?_

 _This had never happened before. Of all the times he had relived this moment, it had never changed. So…why now?_

 _Instinctively, he pushed the person away with a strong blast of magic._

"Ow!"

 _That wasn't Leila's voice. This wasn't part of his recurring nightmare. No, that voice…that was…_

A groan of pain brought him completely from sleep, and he realised what must have happened.

"Sonea!" the word was torn from him before he realised he had said it. He sat up, and saw Sonea's body in a crumpled ball on the other side of their makeshift campsite.

 _What have I done?!_

He hurried to where she had landed, and gently used her arm to move her onto her back.

 _Please don't be hurt. Please, oh please, don't be hurt._

He looked her over- there were no obvious signs of injury, but that didn't mean anything. He looked back at her face to find her looking up at the dawning sky above them, a slightly dazed expression clouding her features. When she didn't say anything, his fear increased. "Are you hurt?" he asked, unable to keep the anxiety from his voice. He could feel himself shaking all over.

She looked at him with two slow blinks, then down at herself, and flexed her fingers experimentally. "No, just bruised, I think."

Relief flooded through him, and he let out a deep sigh. Then curiosity got the better of him then. "Why did you wake me?" he asked.

She dropped her gaze from his eyes and looked down at his trembling hands. Hiding them would be too obvious at this point, he supposed regretfully. "You were dreaming. A nightmare…" her voice trailed off, her face flushing.

Well, he had known this conversation was going to come up eventually. It was always a case of _when_ rather than _if_ , he supposed, but that didn't make it any easier. He wondered when she had first noticed. And how long had she had been diplomatic enough to pretend not to? He told himself to act nonchalant, like he couldn't care less. "I am used to them, Sonea. They are no reason to wake me." That came out a little more chilly than he had meant it to, but that was quickly becoming a theme in his conversations with her.

She hesitated, clearly struggling to find words. "You were making a lot of noise," she said quickly after a long pause, not meeting his eyes.

A string of foul words danced through his mind. His pride was like her body- bruised. What must she think of him? A grown man scared to go to sleep because of bad dreams, whimpering like a coddled child of the Houses. Suddenly, all he wanted was for this conversation to be over. "Go to sleep, Sonea. I will watch."

She sat up, resting her weight on her elbows behind her. "No- you've barely slept! And I know you won't wake me up when it's your turn to sleep." Once again, there was no pity in her voice. In fact, she just sounded annoyed at him. How many times was he going to be silently thanking her on this strange journey of theirs?

"I will. I give you my word."

He ignored the haughty look of disbelief on her face as he offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet. At least he was getting better at ignoring the tingling sensation her touch left. He glanced over her, checking to see that she was just bruised and nothing worse, as she said she was. She looked fine, but he looked to her face to check for signs of discomfort.

It was then that the sun came out, peaking between the mountain ridges behind them.

And oh, didn't she look glorious in the morning light.

Perfectly pale skin that almost glowed. Large, intelligent eyes that were looking right back at him. Soft hair that moved gently on the wind. Lips that held a gentle curve of invitation.

He may not want to be here. He may not have wanted to have fallen so deeply for her, but how he rejoiced that he was the one man who got to stand here, in the middle of the wastes, and admire her in that moment. Because even though Akkarin didn't believe in any of the Gods worshipped in the Allied Lands, he was certain her ethereal beauty was as close as he would ever come to divinity.

She looked at him curiously, and sent out a tendril of thought to see what was in his mind. Too late he realised the mistake he had made of giving her his hand, and of staring at her so openly for so long. Terror swept through him- had she seen?!

As he pulled quickly back, she turned away from him. He could tell from the rise and fall of her shoulders that she was breathing heavily. As she let out a soft gasp of shock, and a hand went to her face to cover her mouth, and he gave up on the faint hope that she had missed his thoughts, or not understood what she had seen. Then, she turned back, and looked at him. The fear, the horror he had expected to see in her face was no where to be found. Instead, was a slight smile of surprise, a blush of interest and eyes wide with…well, happiness. _Joy_ , even.

 _Say something! Put an end to this, whatever 'this' is!_

Sonea didn't say anything as she stepped closer to him. One deliberate step after another, she never lost eye contact with him as she carefully approached him. Without thinking, his hands wrapped around her arms- he supposed it had been an attempt to stop her, but only a half-hearted one. In fact, the way that his hands perfectly encased her arms made him think for a crazed moment that they were always _meant_ to be there.

 _Do something! Anything!_

She was so close to him now, so close he could smell her faint sweetness. He could hear her slow, deliberate breathing. As her hand touched the shirt at his chest and their lips came a hair's breadth apart, he closed his eyes and simply enjoyed being this close to her. But why did she want to be this close to him? He realised with a jolt what they were doing. With incredible willpower, he managed to push her away just in time, just before their lips met and there was no going back. "Stop. Stop this." He took a deep, calming breath before opening his eyes to face her. "This is wrong," he said, more to himself than to her.

"Wrong? How? We both feel…" she trailed off, blushing, making this even harder.

"Yes," he agreed, not believing it was truly so, "but there is more to consider."

"Like?" she coaxed. He should have known she would not make this easy. With reluctance, he let go of her and took a safe step backwards.

"It would not be fair- to you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Me? But—"

 _Stop tempting me._ "You're… young. I am thirteen years older than you."

She nodded, considering that carefully. "Well, I suppose that's true. But women in the Houses are matched with _much_ older men all the time. Some when they're as young as sixteen. I'm nearly twenty."

 _Stop tempting me, please_! "I am your guardian," he said forcefully.

She smiled slyly at him. "No, you're not." She almost sounded amused by his attempts to rebuff her.

It was terrifying how easily she was knocking down every single reason he had come up with to keep himself in check. "But if we return to the Guild—"

"Will we cause a scandal?" She took in a feigned breath of shock and covered her mouth. "I think they're getting used to that." _How can she find any of this funny?_ She must have noticed that he didn't share in her amusement, so changed tack. "Look, you speak as if we'll go back and everything will be the same. Even if we return, nothing will ever be the same for us. I am a black magician. So are you."

The now-familiar pang of guilt was pounded round him by his still racing heart. "I am sorry. I never should have—"

A gruff sound of annoyance from her stopped him. "Oh, don't apologise for _that,"_ she snapped, clearly more irritated than anything by this point. "I _chose_ to learn black magic. And in case you haven't realised it yet, I didn't do it for you."

Akkarin stared at into her eyes, unable to reply. Not because he had nothing to say, he had plenty he could retaliate with, but because of what he was looking at. Those eyes. Those galaxy-deep, earth dark eyes, they held the future. It had happiness, it had love, it had hope.

She held his gaze unwaveringly, then rolled those wonderful eyes and turned away when the silent dragged on awfully, crossing her arms protectively across her chest.

"Well, this is going to make things awkward."

It was painful to watch her suddenly look so vulnerable. She wanted this, just as much as he ached for it. So... so _why on earth was he holding back_?

 _Focus on the good._

"Sonea, wait."

She half turned back, the sun behind her, burnishing her hair so it had an almost auburn sheen. She stilled as he moved forward and reached to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes. He noticed her deep intake of breath. Despite his failing resolve, she needed to understand his reticence. She needed to know this wasn't about her.

"Either of us could die over the next few weeks," he murmured.

"I know, I understand," she replied, the fire in her eyes dying, her arms dropping back to her sides.

"I would be happier knowing you were safe."

Then the fire was back again, or at least a small kindling, and he held back a laugh. Of course, she was probably the only person in the world who would take romantic concern as insult. Despite the anger, those eyes were still so beautiful.

"No, I won't start that argument again, it's just..." How to tell her? How to explain he'd give up everything, everyone, just to have her carry on looking at him like that until they were both old and grey? Oh, those eyes. Those eyes that were looking at him as if he was everything. I choose you, they told him. But will you choose me? Yes, he would choose her. Every single time. "Oh, you...you test my loyalties, Sonea."

She frowned up at him, a beautiful look of confusion coming over her face.

"How?"

 _Because I could save the world but lose you. And that's not a world I want to live in._

He let his fingers trail across her frown, shivering ever so slightly at the contact. What was the point in a full explanation, when in reality he was probably going to have to show her?

"Oh, it doesn't matter. It's too late anyway. I started to fail that test the night you killed the Ichani."

Her mouth dropped open, and she blinked at him, clearly not expecting that. He was surprised she was as surprised as she was. He thought he'd been obvious, and laughed again. She smiled up at him- not the smile of co-conspirators, or of forced politeness. Those he had seen before. This was a smile of genuine affection. And with that smile, he failed the test.

His hands curled around her narrow waist and pulled her close, so close he could feel her heart beating fast against his own. She trembled ever so slightly in his hold, but he could tell it was in anticipation, not fear. He couldn't quite bring himself believe this was real.

He brought his head down to hers, and dropped his forehead to rest against her own. Her hands slipped around his neck, and she sighed softly, relaxing into him. He felt her rise a little onto the balls of her feet, a single word on her lips. "Finally."

They stayed like that, on the precipice of the moment, a final hesitancy on behalf of them both. Eyes closed, no longer needed, lips close enough to feel the other's shallow breath.

Finally, unable to resist, he brushed his lips gently against hers, not wanting to overreach his invitation. Her response was soft and warm and welcoming, and finally, finally, all doubts over the truth of this moment were forgotten.

He could tell she was drowning in this new sea of sensations as much as he was when her fingers pulled roughly through his hair, so he gently deepened the kiss. She quickly rose up higher on her toes. He enjoyed the "oh" she gasped out between kisses as his hands were slipped lower on her body as she moved against him.

He lost track of time as his lips moved over hers, then over her jaw and throat and back again, her sweet scent filling his mind. Finally, needing air, she pulled away. Leaning heavily against his chest with both palms, she let out a very shaky laugh. "You're...pretty good at that," she breathed.

He chuckled. "You know, I think I can do even better, but I'll need to do some experimentation..." He took her jaw in one hand and made to kiss her again, but her finger at his lips stopped him.

"You should get some sleep."

"Now?!"

She laughed softly. "Yes, now! I'll keep watch. Seriously, you need it." She ran her fingers across the stubble that had grown over his jaw, concern in her eyes. Then she smiled coyly up at him. "I won't disappear, I'll still be here when you wake. I'd swear on the honour of my House, but I don't have one."

He smiled broadly at her joke. "Well, neither do I, or a Family for that matter." He took her chin between his fingers, tilted her face closer toward him and brushed his thumb over her lips. "Of all the magicians in that room who could have chosen to believe me, and it was you. It was only you," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers with each word. He felt her shiver at the touch and lean her warm forehead against his cheek. "By the eye, Sonea, what did I ever do to deserve you?"

She leaned back to look him in the eye solemnly.

"You told me the truth, treated me as an equal and took a chance on me. No one else has ever done that." She then leaned forward to whisper in his ear, the sensation making him light headed. "Now enough of all the compliments- do as I say, will you? I need you at your best."

He kissed her deeply. "Of course, my lady. I'm yours to command."

 **AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**


	53. My Griefs Are Mine

Chapter Fifty-Three: My Griefs Are Mine

 _You may my glories and my state depose,_

 _But my griefs: still am I king of those._

Staring out through the great window at the end of the Throne Room, words from ancient history whispered their way into Merin's mind. An King of Elyne of many centuries past had said them when the populace of Capia had threatened to revolt against the monarchy in favour of a republic unless the King was willing to deal with the state of austerity that was taking hold of the country. Merin had always wondered what that must have been like for that old king. To be a sovereign who was dictated to by his people was not to be a sovereign at all.

Though his own situation hadn't quite reached that level of desperation, listening to the Administrator's latest report and Balkan's plans was like being privy to his own funeral plans. He wondered, not for the first time, whether he was being tested. His father had said many times throughout his short reign that every monarch must have their will, strength and courage tested by the Gods throughout out their time on the ornate dais. But, possibly naively, Merin had never thought that such a test would be so stacked against him, and the entire city and nation to boot. But then again, the Gods could be as cruel as they were loving.

"At this point in time, it appears that what…we had been informed of in terms of the Ichani and their wish to invade Kyralia and take over the Guildlwas accurate. So it seems…" Administrator Lorlen's voice drifted off awkwardly behind Merin as he finished recounting his latest update.

"So it seems that our former High Lord was telling us the exact truth, and we didn't believe him." Merin finished for him, turning to look the Administrator in the eye, not wanting to be seen as frightened by this inconvenient truth. "Well, I suppose that's not quite true. One person chose to believe him, but she insisted on accompanying him." He sighed deeply and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "We have been blind fools, gentlemen. All of us. And we will pay in blood for the mistakes we have made over the past few weeks. Centuries, even, if Akkarin's account of how the Guild buried its own history with regards to Black Magic are to believed. Though maybe now it not the time to dwell on that." He straightened himself, knowing he needed to be seen as being in command. "Lord Balkan, with all the magicians that we currently have, do you think we can overthrow these Ichani by sheer strength?"

Without hesitation, the Head of Warriors shook his head. "No. Akkarin told us that each of these Ichani has at least the strength of ten average Guild magicians, and we have calculated that there are at least thirteen of them. Plus, if they arrive in the city, they will be able to use the magical strength of any person they come across, regardless of whether they are a magician or not."

Merin frowned. "But why should we believe Akkarin's assessment of their strength? He not exactly the most reliable of sources."

"We now know that he didn't lie about the Ichani. The only lie he told in the entire trial was to protect Sonea. So why would he tell the truth about them, then lie about their strength?" Lorlen said softly. "He…he was trying to warn us…"

Looking at the Administrator, the King could see that the man was visibly upset. He was looking down at the floor, his jaw clenching tightly, and he was breathing very deliberately. Merin thought he understood why.

It wasn't a secret by any means that Lorlen and Akkarin had been close friends since their days in the university. It was one of the reasons everyone believed that they worked so well together in the two highest offices in the Guild. They had always been closer than Merin could say he had been to the man, which had always irritated Merin slightly, though he knew he had no right to such an emotion. But putting aside the immature jealousy of his youth, Merin knew that finding out that the closest companion of one's adolescence was dabbling in such evil arts must have been…well, horrifying, to say the least, for Lorlen. After all, he himself had been shaken to the very core by the revelations the trial had brought up.

And then, _then_ to find out that same close companion was the _only_ person that could stand in the way of your country and sheer destruction, after sending him into exile and probable death…To find out that your friend had been telling you the truth, but you hadn't believed him. To find out you would never get the chance to apologise…Merin didn't want to dwell on how that must feel for Lorlen. No, it was time to look to the here and now, and what they could possibly do to prevent complete annellation.

"So, can we get him back?" he asked both men, not sure of what he wanted the answer to be. To be sure, Akkarin could probably help them, but he had still broken both city and Guild laws. Merin didn't like the idea of having a man he had no control over lording over everything and everyone. Put simply, Merin didn't want to give Akkarin the satisfaction of _being proven right._

Balkan pursed his lips and spread his hands. "Possibly- but not in time. Not with Sachaka being such a distance away. It took us the best part of a week to reach it, and we can only assume, given Lorlen's overheard conversation with Osen, that they are on their way here. And even if it was closer," he added as an after-thought, "we wouldn't be able to ask him back without the Ichani hearing."

Merin heard Lorlen clear his throat slightly. He looked over at him, but Lorlen glanced away before they could make eye contact. He took in what Balkan had said- he had forgotten about the limitations to magicians' mind communication, and was glad that he had been reminded before he made a fool of himself. "Of course," he murmured. "Well I think we can all agree that whatever we do, we need to keep it secret from these Ichani. That means we have to assume that we are on our own in this- for now, at least. What progress has Lord Sarrin made from Akkarin's books?"

"None, your majesty," Balkan said shortly.

Merin looked at him sharply. "None at all?"

Balkan shook his head. "None whatsoever. He's incredibly frustrated." The Warrior sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "But I suppose we shouldn't be that surprised. Akkarin said he was taught by some Sachakan magician, he then taught Sonea himself. I can't speak for Black Magic with any expertise, but with regular magic use, it's well known that it can't just be learnt from reading books. It would be like…oh, I don't know, trying to learn a complicated piece of music without having ever heard it played out loud. You might be able to understand the notes in theory, but putting it into practice would be virtually impossible." Balkan looked out the window, where the sun was disappearing behind the taller buildings of the city. "If I might be excused, your majesty? There are still many things I need to organise before the day is out."

Merin nodded his consent "Of course, Lord Balkan. Thank you for your time, I appreciate you coming to see me so soon after your return. If you wouldn't mind staying a moment longer, Administrator?"

Lorlen inclined his head. "Of course."

Balkan bowed respectfully, inclined his head to Lorlen, then turned and made his way back down the long Throne Room to the entrance way, his footsteps echoing on the marbled floor. Once he had disappeared out of sight through the ornate gold doors, Lorlen cleared his throat.

"There was something…something that the other Higher Magicians wanted me to ask you, sir," he said hesitantly. "It's…a little delicate."

Merin raised an eyebrow, wondering what was coming. "Oh, yes?"

"There was a feeling amongst some of us…that the Ichani might show mercy, to the people of the city at least, if we were to surrender to them. If we were to give them the freedom of the city, the keys to the Guild and…" Lorlen took a deep breath. "And if you were willing to abdicate." The pause that came then was black and terrible. Merin made himself keep eye contact with Lorlen, silently refusing to say anything until Lorlen had finished, which he eventually did. "Your Majesty, what I ask is beyond awful and we would never ask if the situation wasn't dire. But…would you do it? Would you be willing to relinquish the crown for the good of your people, if it came to it? You understand I don't ask for myself, or the Guild for that matter, but for the people of your city."

Any other day, under any other circumstances, Merin would have considered having a man who made such a speech horse-whipped. But today was not any other day. He looked down at his hands, and at the Great Seal that adorned his finger. He gently traced over the polished gold metal with his index finger. On it was embossed both his own house incal, a Mullook, wings outstretched, crowned with the famous Kyralian coronet. It reminded him every time what he was: a Kyralian, and a King.

As I told you before, Merin did truly believe in the Divine Right of Kings. He believed he had no destiny above and beyond that of being sovereign- after all, that was probably destiny enough. But the truest sign of monarchy, when it comes right down to it, is a person whose love for their people is put before any personal gain or ambition. If the Gods in their cruelty had guided him to a point where he would have to let his crown go to let his people live, he was bound by duty to do so.

After all, what is it that I keep saying? What out story keeps coming back to? The hardest part of love is in the letting go.

"My crown I am, but still my griefs are mine," he murmured.

"Sir?"

Merin turned and looked at the Administrator, abashed. He smiled wanly. "Apologies, my mind was half elsewhere. Yes, if it came to it, I would give myself up for the good of the Allied Lands, but somehow I don't think it will come to that. I should think these…treacherous vermin do want my head on a spike and to sit on my Throne, but my abdication alone will not stop them, I fear. That would require some level of honour on their part, and slavers don't have any."

Lorlen nodded. "I have to say I agree with you, sir. But I will pass on your answer. Thank you- I know it must have been painful to answer. Kyralia is lucky to have you as its King at such a time."

Merin smiled sadly at the man, and inclined his head in thanks for that remark, even if he wasn't sure how true it really was in reality. The two men, stood in silence for a little while, tall and grave, looking out over their shared city, both engrossed in their own thoughts. Then Merin remembered the question he had asked Lorlen to stay behind to answer. He turned to face him properly.

"Administrator, you clearly knew Akkarin better than anyone else did. I will readily say you knew him better than me. If he was here to lead you, what do you think he would be asking you all to do now?"

Lorlen sighed. "I have asked myself that question over and over, and I can't find the answer. Except to say that the Akkarin I thought I knew all those years was a brave and honourable man who loved his country, and the Guild. He would do whatever was necessary to defend both, even if it meant great sacrifice on his part."

Merin nodded slowly. "Well, I think we'll all get our chance to make great sacrifices before all is said and done, Administrator."

 **I have pinched another quotation from the old Willy S here, just to be honest** **Now the next chapter I am a little nervous about…can you guess why? Eek! Cece xox**


	54. Andante, Andante

**_It's getting hot in here (so hot), so_** ** _take off-_ *cough cough* I mean** **to say** **skip if you think this chapter won't be for you ;)**

Chapter Fifty-Four: Andante, Andante.

The water came pouring down. The crashing sound it made as it hit the pool below was surprisingly calming, considering its volume. Sitting himself in the natural alcove with his back to the stone wall, Akkarin enjoyed being encased in a temporary prison of light and sound. He wondered how many other people had settled themselves here, had hidden themselves away from the rest of the world in this place.

A movement in the corner of his eye brought his attention to a faint silhouette against the cascade, and his solitude was disturbed- but luckily by the one person whom he didn't mind disturbing it.

Sonea looked around the miniature cavern with interest, then her eyes settled on him. He smiled at her gently.

"It's quite private in here, if a bit cramped," he said.

"And noisy," she replied with a smile. She pulled herself up onto ledge he had settled onto with her arms, and came to sit beside him. He watched her with undiluted fascination as she looked about her. "It's beautiful," she breathed. He couldn't stop his hand sliding across the stone to hers and entwining their fingers together. With her hair slicked back against her neck, wet clothes and bare feet, he once again felt he was seeing a side to her he hadn't seen before. And with every side, every new version of her he saw, she grew more and more perfect.

"Yes, it is," he said, his eyes never leaving her. Noticing the frigidity of her skin, he took her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over her soft palms. "You're cold."

She turned to look at him, an easy smile making her eyes sparkle as she nodded. Her gaze then left his and looked him over, and her smile changed subtly.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" he asked.

"No reason," she bantered, and he couldn't help but laugh. He then let his own eyes drop to consider her in the same way she had him. The clothes clinging to her skin gave him a tantalising view of what he hadn't allowed himself to look at on several occasions before.

 _Could they…?_

She must have noticed, as she made a noise between amusement and embarrassment. She blushed a deep red, then made to pull her hands away from him, but he wouldn't release them.

 _Could he…?_

She looked at him curiously, then smiled her understanding at the message he was trying to convey. "Oh," she said, "I see."

He laughed softly at her sudden understanding. He curled a hand round her waist and pulled her towards him, enjoying the ease with which she folded herself against him, their bodies fitting together perfectly. As their foreheads met in a moment in which only the two of them existed, she let out a deep, shuddering breath, seemingly overcome. He told himself to do this slowly, softly, carefully.

He kissed her gently, then not quite so gently, bringing her down to the stone ledge with care. He pulled back to look at her, wanting to be sure, and his heart leapt at the expression on her face. Soft, wide eyes held a little trepidation, yes, but that was eclipsed by the love and trust he found there. _I want you_ , they told him. _But do you want me?_ Of course he did. At the end of all things, he wanted this. Just this. Only this.

So, he took his time, and was soft, slow and careful. He kissed her tenderly, pulling away her clothes with care, then took in her form with the deepest reverence. He marvelled and was humbled by the fact that of all the places she could be, of all the things she could be doing, of all the people she could be with, she had chosen to be here. With him. Like this. That thought alone would have made this moment intimate enough, but the feel of her fingers running through his stubble brought him back to the physical world, and his mind was filled with all manner of possibilities. _Andante, andante,_ he told himself.

His world collapsed in on itself, until all it contained were the deep flushes colouring her smooth skin, the gentle gasps of his name, the trembling fingers that unbuckled his belt and gripped at his skin. He traced her every curve, every hollow, like writing the map of an undiscovered world. From the long arc of her spine to the graceful dip in her pelvis, his hands learned her. He learnt what made her shiver, what made her giggle, what made her groan. He whispered soft words of encouragement in her ear. Finally, after feeling her surrender to the physical sensations that washed over her, he allowed himself to show her that he was absolutely, categorically, hers.

Afterwards, their breathing slowly returning to a normal rhythm, heads still spiralling from the intensity, he lowered himself onto the stone, watching her intently. Eventually, she blinked her eyes open, looking directly at him. She smiled at him the same way she had the day before, and he couldn't help but smile back. No words were required at this moment. He wrapped her in his arms and, with a peace he hadn't felt in an age, fell asleep.

No nightmares hounded him, no tortured memories of his traumatic past came to disturb his much needed repast. Maybe it was because his mind was so tired it chose to let him sleep. Maybe it was because his life was currently as terrifying as those dreams that his mind didn't feel the need to scare him further. Or maybe it was because of the soft, slight figure that was curled against him, her slow and steady breath against his hand, a talisman against further horror.

But he was woken only a short while later to her tensing against him.

"What is it?" He asked blearily, eyes blinking open to see her sat up on her elbows staring out at the falling water that hid them.

"Someone's standing beside the pool," she whispered curtly over shoulder. He was immediately awake. He listened, and heard what she must have already- the sound of muffled voices. He cursed silently.

"Be quiet a moment," he instructed. His eyes found a natural break in the water. He slipped off the ledge so he could move toward it. Briefly turning his senses inward, he listened for the connection he had with Lorlen through the ring. But, as had been the case since his arrest, there was no connection to be found. Cursing to himself, he tuned into the sound of the voices. Through the gap in the falls, he could see a man in red- the sign of an Ichani master, but not one he recognised. He had his hand tightly around the wrist of a olive skinned woman in the garb of a slave. It didn't take him long to work out what he was seeing.

"…thought I made myself clear, I don't want to miss the opportunity of killing the Kyralians, that's why I put you where you were." He immediately recognised the voice from his previous spying.

He turned back to Sonea. "Parika," he mouthed, and she nodded her understanding, tense and alert. She had, to his quiet disappointment, pulled her clothes back on, and after a few moments came to crouch beside him. Together, they listened as the Ichani and slave spoke to one another, making their plans to enter Kyralia.

"But I didn't mean any harm," a female voice replied. "I only sought to be ready for your return. See, I have gathered stingberries and tiro nuts."

"You should not have left the Pass." Clearly Parika didn't care for stingberries or tiro nuts.

"Riko is there," the woman replied, and Akkarin wondered as her insolence- he would never had been brave enough to answer Dakova back.

"Riko is asleep."

"Then punish Riko!"

At the sound of the thump that Parika's fist made as he punished his slave, he felt Sonea flinch, her arm twitching against his, and move away once again.

"Forgive me, master!" The slave replied.

"Get up," Parika's harsh voice replied. "I don't have time for this. I haven't slept for two days."

 _I know how you feel._

"Are we going straight to Kyralia, then?" The woman asked, her voice becoming fainter.

"No. Not until Kariko is ready. I want to…rested…"

Once he was sure that the two had left the pool, he allowed himself to relax and take a deep breath. He turned back to tell Sonea the danger was passed, and was met by the sight of her looking anxiously back at him, arms hugging her torso protectively. He was furious that they had taken the serene look off her face that had been there just a few minutes before. He went to her and pulled her close. He felt her relax against him, but she still shivered under his fingers.

"You're shaking," he murmured into the top of her head, his lips brushing her still wet hair. She nodded.

"That was too close," she breathed, her now-warm fingers coming to rest on his abdomen.

"Yes," he replied. "Lucky I hide our boots. Sometimes it pays to be overly cautious."

She was quiet for a little while. He could feel her deliberate, steadying breaths on his chest as her forehead rested on his neck. "They're in front of us now," she noted eventually. He felt the same stab of fear that he could hear in her voice and held her tighter.

"Yes, but it sounds as if Parika is the only Ichani at the Pass. It also sounds as if Kariko plans to invade in the next few days." He sighed, remembering his failed attempt to reach the Guild. "I tried to reach Lorlen, but he isn't wearing the ring. He hasn't put it on for days." That thought, above all others, worried him. His only solace leaving the Guild to fend for itself had been that he still had a private connection to it. But now it appeared that connection had gone as Lorlen had taken back the freedom of his thoughts, and he had no way to keep them informed of the Ichani's plans. He would just have to hope that between Lorlen, Balkan and the King, they had enough sense to work out what to do next on their own. Some hope, that.

"So we wait until Parika enters Kyralia, then follow?" Sonea asked.

He considered. "Or we try to sneak past him tonight, when he sleeps." He didn't like the idea of trying out something so risky, however. Well, if Sonea wasn't here he _might_ be willing, but as it was…

A thought struck him. He took her by the shoulders and pulled back to look at her. "It isn't far to the coast from here. From there is would only be a few days' ride to Imardin. If you were to go that way while I—"

She looked shocked for a moment, then anger stormed over her face. "No. I'm not leaving you," she stated.

"The Guild needs you, Sonea," he retorted, trying to sound authoritative rather than scared. "They don't have time to learn black magic from my books. They need someone who can train them, and fight for them. If we both go through the Pass, we might both be caught and killed. As least, if you went south, one of us might reach Kyralia."

He let her push his hands of her shoulders as her face showed she was fighting to think of a retort. "You need my strength," she said, a little lamely. Clearly she had seen there was some logic to what he had said.

"One more day's strength from you will make no difference. I could never have gained enough power in these last weeks to face the Ichani. I'd need ten or twenty of you."

"It would not be one more day," she immediately retorted. "It will take another four or five days to get from the Pass to Imardin."

He sighed. She was right, of course, it would be at least another three days, but it wasn't the hopelessness of the situation that was stopping him- he had never let the odds being stacked against him stop him from fighting before. No, it was Sonea herself. Yes, she had been willingly giving him her power for weeks now, but now that things had…changed, developed, between them, it no longer felt right to be taking from her in this way. But he didn't want to voice such an anxiety- not yet anyway. He didn't want to appear ungrateful for all that she had given to him.

"Four of five days would make little difference," he replied. "If the Guild accept my help, I will have hundreds of magicians to draw from. If they don't, they're doomed anyway."

He watched as she thought about that. Then she frowned and shook her head. "You're the valuable one. You have the knowledge and the skill, and the power we've collected. You should go south. If it's safer, why don't we both go south?"

"Because I would not get there in time."

She gave him an exasperated look- on any other day, it might have made him laugh. "Right, so I wouldn't either?" she said irritably.

"No, but if I failed, you could help what was left of the Guild regain Kyralia," he retorted gently, not wishing to irritate her further. "The rest of the Allied Lands will not like have Sachakans black magicians as neighbours. They would—"

"No. I'm _not_ going to stay away until the battle is over," she said simply, definitively, and he knew he had lost the battle. Again. "Surely you know me better than that by now." There was a stab of hurt in her voice, and he relented a little.

"Of course I do, but it's just…" He considered her carefully, then sighed and went to find his clothes. A silence, far less peaceful than the one they had just shared, settled between them. Fully clothed again, he went to her, took her hands and held them close to his chest. He needed to be honest with her. She needed to know this wasn't just about the Guild. "Look, it's not that I don't want your help, or am not immensely grateful for you offering it, but it would be easier for me to face the Ichani if I did not have to worry about what they might do to you if I fail," he said quietly.

Her expression softened and she squeezed his fingers. "Do you think it's any easier for me when I know what they would do to you?"

He frowned, consider whether to correct her. Yes, the Ichani wouldn't be at all pleasant to him if he was caught, but what they would do to her was much, much worse. He knew it. He had seen it. If he was caught, he would eventually be killed, which would be some solace. She would have no such reprieve- not for a very, very long time. No, he decided, looking into her eyes, there was no need to explain. What good would it do, anyway? It would only terrify her.

Still, she had not yet convinced him that staying together was a good idea.

"At least one of us would be safe if you went south," he said, trying one last time.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, why don't you go then? I'll stay and fix the Guild's little Ichani problem!"

He tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't. It was too good an image. "No good," he replied. "I would have to come with you to see that for myself."

She winked. "Well then, we'll just have to think of an alternative," she smiled mischievously. "We probably ought to be going, oughtn't we?" She went to step out from behind the falls.

As the thought of returning to normal life returned- well, as normal as this strange existence was going to get, he suddenly realised the enormity of what they had just done. With the sudden arrival of Parika, they had some what blown over something of a milestone. Guilt stabbed at him- had he really taken such an opportunity to partake in such base pleasures? And had he really done so with her, taking advantage of her innocence?

"Sonea?" he said softly, an unformed question on his lips.

She turned back to him, her eyes questioning. Some of the serenity he had managed to create there had returned, to his relief. Colour rose in her cheeks at his gaze, and the corners of her lips turned upward in a small smile. It was too much for him to resist.

He moved close to her again, and pushed the wet hair from her face. He wrapped a hand round the back of her neck, leaned forward and kissed her deeply, and she responded immediately. As his free hand went to the small of her back, her hands slid up his chest.

Oh, how could he say any time with her was a base pleasure? She was the greatest thing to have ever come into his life, the best thing he'd ever been able to call his. He would, and could, never feel anything wrong in her.

Then she pulled back suddenly.

"Did you want to ask me something?" She whispered shakily.

"Yes, but you've made me forget what," he replied, lips against her jaw. That made her laugh breezily.

"Then I apologise, how careless of me," she breathed. As she rose on her toes to kiss him again, he remembered. Just because he didn't feel wrong about the act itself didn't mean he didn't feel guilty for what he had taken from her. He pulled away from her completely, He took a couple of steps backwards, wanting to give her space, and looked at her, trying to seem unaffected and calm.

"In all seriousness, Sonea, I- I'm sorry if I went further than you were expecting when we...well, earlier. I shou-"

She stepped back up to him, an amused expression on her face, and she put a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"I'm half trained and disobedient, remember? I don't do the things I don't want to do."

It was his turn to laugh- both in amusement and relief. "No, you don't, do you?" he said, before recapturing her lips. She gave a short gasp of surprise as he lifted her delicate frame up around her waist with ease and lowered her gently onto the stone slab once again. "Tell me, what would you like me to do this time?"

 **...And that's all she wrote, folks. That's all you are getting. Well...almost ;) I really hope this wasn't too fifty shades-ish. Let me know what you think. If I need to retire as a writer after this, let me know, haha! Also, a massive thank you to the guest reviewers who always take the time to write to me after each chapter. I have no idea who you are, you gentle souls, but God bless you.**


	55. Some Day

Chapter Fifty-Five: Some Day

As another wave of dizziness washed over him, Dorrien leaned against the stable door and closed his eyes. He sent Healing power throughout himself as a general boost to his strength, but he knew what he really needed right now was sleep. He had, with Akkarin's help, managed to repair the damage done to him by the Ichani magician, but that certainly didn't mean he was feeling at his best yet. Still, he supposed he ought to be grateful he was still alive. He ought to be grateful he had come across the exiled pair when he had- whatever it meant to him personally. He stroked his horse's nose on last time, making her nicker contentedly, before leaving the stable and making his way slowly back to his cottage.

Once inside, his eyes were immediately drawn to the table where two figures were seated. They were sitting in a peaceful silence. At the sound of his boots on the wood floor, the smaller turned to look at him and smiled. He noticed the empty bowl in front of her.

"Good?" he asked. Sonea nodded softly, smiling. She looked…different. It wasn't the change in clothes, or even the way she held her herself. It was the look in her eyes, like she had lost something of her innocence since they had last met. But then again, maybe that was best not thought about.

As he felt another wave of light-headedness go through him, he dropped into the nearest chair with a groan. He rubbed his face with his hands. He tried to a remember a time when he had felt this awful, and failed.

"You should get some sleep," Akkarin advised. In his rough travelling clothes and short beard, he hardly looked like the austere High Lord of not so long ago. Though Dorrien had never had anything to do with him when he had held office, he seemed more like a stranger now than he ever had.

"I know, but I don't think I can," he replied. "I have too many questions." Well, where to start? Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing. Like how these two were still alive, considering the battle that he had witnessed not two hours before. "That magician…how did you get through the Pass if he was guarding it?"

Akkarin gave a wry smile. "A little deception."

As Akkarin explained and Dorrien did his best to listen, his gaze switched between the pair in front of him. Akkarin told their story factually, with little embellishment, as if he was giving testimony in the Guildhall. And Sonea…Sonea just looked at him, her chin resting in her hand.

Dorrien, to his great personal regret, could not remember his mother very well anymore. She died when he was nine, over sixteen years ago. Of course, he could remember little things. He could remember her smile, but not things she smiled at. He could remember her voice, but not the things it said. He supposed, in reality, most of the things he thought he could remember were the things his father had told him. But one thing that Dorrien did remember clearly was the way his mother had looked at his father. And it was the way that Sonea was looking at Akkarin right now.

 _I really have lost her, haven't I?_

He so desperately wanted to be angry at Akkarin. But it was difficult to be angry at someone who had just saved your life.

He needed a distraction from such thoughts. "He was so strong…" he said, remembering how little effort it had taken for the man to very nearly annihilate him- before Sonea had…done something. He looked at her. "How did you stop him?"

She looked at him, and he was surprised by the blush that came over her cheeks. She hesitated in her response, then took a deep breath. "I stopped his heart. With Healing magic," she said simply, looking down at her hands.

 _What?_ How did _that_ work? "He didn't resist?" he asked. Healing was so easy to stop, as long as you were a magician.

She shook her head. "The Ichani don't know how to Heal, so he didn't know I could do that to him." She looked away again and bit her lip anxiously. Clearly something about the death of this man was bothering her. In a way, that made him feel a little better- at least she hadn't lost all her moral integrity. "I didn't think I'd ever do something like that to someone."

He then felt a wave of sympathy for her, and guilt for having ever doubted her. Sonea- lose her integrity? Never. "I would have done the same in your place," he said firmly. "He was trying to kill you after all."

She looked at him again, gratitude in her eyes, and almost smiled. So, his opinion did mean something to her. He was humbled by that, considering his behaviour earlier. Akkarin watched on in silence. Dorrien wasn't finished with his questions, however. Now to more practical matters.

"Was Parika the only Sachakan in the Pass?"

Akkarin nodded. "Yes. That does not mean that others won't come later, however." As he drummed his fingers on the table, seeming to be pondering his own thoughts, Sonea rose from the table and moved to one of the more comfortable chairs on the other side of the room. Dorrien too considered Akkarin's words, and what they meant to him personally.

"Then I should warn the locals," he mused aloud. When he had received communication from the Guild about Akkarin's warning, it had been described in a manner that suggested they did not believe it to be true, so he hadn't worried unnecessarily. Now it seemed his world was about to come crashing down.

"That would be wise," Akkarin agreed. "The Ichani will prey on non-magicians, particularly those with latent magical potential."

A stab of alarm went through Dorrien. He thought about all the people around here those words could affect. "So, they'll hunt down farmers and villagers all the way from the Fort to Imardin?"

Akkarin frowned. "Well, that depends. If the Guild is sensible, it will evacuate all the villages and farms on the road. Kariko won't let the other Ichani waste too much time on the journey, however. He will be worried that the Guild will change their mind about me, and allow Sonea and myself to return so I can strengthen myself in time to face him."

Dorrien had thought, as he had lain on the cold hard ground, half-dead, that this situation he found himself in couldn't get worse- apparently it could. "What will happen if the Guild does not call you back?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer. "What can they do?"

Akkarin looked genuinely sad, and shrugged. "Nothing," he replied. "Even if they do call me back and allow me to use black magic, I don't have enough time to grow as strong as eight Ichani. If I were High Lord now, I would have the Guild leave Imardin. I would teach black magic to a select few, then return and take Kyralia back."

Dorrien stared at him. Had the heat and exhaustion got to him? Had the terror of the last few weeks made him ready to give up? " _Abandon_ Kyralia?"

"Yes." The man stared back at him, a cold certainty in his eyes.

But Dorrien refused to accept this. Even if Akkarin had given up, he still had some fight left in him. "There must be another way," he said with as much conviction as he could. When Akkarin shook his head, he felt a flare of irritation. "But you came back. Why would you do that, if you did not intend to fight?"

To his surprise, Akkarin gave a small, wry smile. "I don't expect to win, Dorrien," he said softly. "I- that is, we, do as we must."

Akkarin's correction made Dorrien think. They weren't the only two voices in the room, after all. "Well, what do you think, Sonea?" No response. "Sonea?"

They both turned, and saw that Sonea had fallen asleep, curled up in her chair. Dorrien chuckled, and looked back at Akkarin.

"That can't be comfortable. Shall I wake her? She will sleep better in a bed."

Akkarin frowned and shook his head. "No. Let her sleep, she's exhausted. You don't mind her using your bed, though?"

Dorrien shook his head. He watched as Akkarin rose, stepped over to Sonea, brushed some hair out of her face and, with obvious care, lifted her still sleeping form into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Dorrien thought he heard her murmur something in her sleep, and Akkarin quietly reply.

 _He really does…_ care _about her, doesn't he? This isn't just a, well, physical thing..._

Akkarin came back soon after, much to Dorrien's quiet relief, her boots in one hand. He shut the bedroom door behind him with his free hand, and moved across the small house to place her boots neatly by the front door. As he came back to the table, Dorrien decided it was time to speak honestly.

"Look, I'm…I'm sorry about earlier," he said quietly, looking down at his hands.

"I'm sorry as well," Akkarin replied with a sigh, seating himself again. Well, Dorrien hadn't been expecting that. Still, he had been brought up to place great importance on politeness, so he felt he owed the man a reason for his previous rudeness.

"It just all seemed, well, it all still seems, just too awful to be true."

Akkarin nodded. "I wish I could tell you I was lying, or exaggerating, honestly. The truth of the matter is..." he took in a deep breath. "The truth is that the chances of any of us surviving this are pretty low. Particularly for me. They want me dead, Dorrien." He glanced back at the bedroom. "More so than I have admitted to her." The man was quiet for a little while, but Dorrien could tell he was deciding something, so kept his peace. Eventually, with a sudden intake of breath, Akkarin spoke again. "If that happens..." he looked at Dorrien, and for the first time since they had met, Dorrien thought he could see fear in his eyes. He had hidden it well until now. "Will you make sure she's alright? She trusts you, and admires you, that is clear. She will need someone to pull her back from all this, no matter what happens. Will you do that for me?"

If Akkarin had said those words not three hours before, Dorrien probably would have been stupid enough to try to throw a fist at him. Because not only had he turned Sonea to a much darker way of living, not only had he seduced her, someone who was meant to be in his protection, not only had he returned to a land he was supposed to have vacated, but now Akkarin wanted his help in looking after her. This unusual, curious, but wonderful woman whom Dorrien had hoped that one day may love him as much as he loved her. And now, now she was gone. Because of this man, who had the audacity to ask him favours.

But no one has the right to be loved by another, we only ever have that as a privilege. And surely, if Dorrien truly did love her that much, he should want her to have whatever she wanted. And right now, clearly, she wanted the man sitting in front of him. And if something terrible happened to him, he should be prepared to help her pick up the pieces.

Love- it will drive us all mad before the end.

So, he nodded once. "Of course, I will. There was no need to ask."

As Akkarin nodded his thanks in return, he tried to look on the brighter side, as hard as that was right now. Maybe Sonea had slipped out of his grasp. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe he would get the chance to experience this kind of feeling again- now today, obviously, but… _someday_.

 **Special thanks to toolazytologin (loving the guest username, by the way!) for your very honest review.** **If you ever do log in (insert winky face) and want to chat some more, do DM me! Love Cece, xox**


	56. In Whatever Time We Have

Chapter Fifty-Six: In Whatever Time We Have

 _-Balkan?_ A quiet voice drifted into Akkarin's mind. He immediately caught hold of the conversation and listened in.

 _-Yikmo!_ The immediate reply came. _What happened? Are you alright?_

 _-No, no, not really. They're all…all dead._

 _-Who are dead, Yikmo? Be specific._

 _-All my men. All dead. All gone._ The horror in Yikmo's thoughts was clear. Akkarin balked as the full implication of what Yikmo had said hit him- Rothen!

 _-What about you, are you hurt?_ Balkan carried on his questioning, always the solider to the end.

 _-Yes. Can't feel…can't feel my arm._ The words sounded fearful.

 _-What about the Ichani?_

 _-I…I don't…_ Yikmo's mental voice was becoming fainter and fainter.

When Balkan next responded, he sounded more commanding.

 _-Yikmo, I know it's hard, I know you're in pain, but I need this information. Dig deep. Where are the Ichani?_

 _-Didn't manage to kill them, but…delayed them. They're coming. I'm sorry, Balkan. I failed you._

Balkan's mental voice changed from the commanding to the fatherly.

 _-You did no such thing. You have served the Guild with distinction, Yikmo. Thank you, on behalf of all of us._

 _-Am I going to die?_ Unspoken, terrified words drifted across the mental communication. Yikmo didn't want to die- not here. Not so far from home. Not so alone.

 _-You're not alone, Yikmo. I'm here,_ Balkan said gently, more gently than Akkarin would have thought possible. Perhaps there was more to him than just a soldier.

 _-I'm here as well,_ a new voice came in. Akkarin's stomach twisted painfully- Lorlen. _We'll face this with you._

 _-As am I,_ yet another person came in, this one Akkarin didn't recognise.

- _You're home, Yikmo._

 _-We're with you._

 _-Be at peace, brother._

Many more minds from across many hundreds of miles stood vigil with Yikmo. He was not alone. The Guild would not permit one of their own to die unnoticed. Akkarin felt a wistful pride at that- maybe they were more of a loving family than he had ever truly realised. No further response came from the warrior, save for a tendril of gratitude.

"No, Rothen…" he heard a voice close to him breathe outwardly. Her voice pulled him from the inner world. Clearly she had just realised what Yikmo's message meant. He opened his eyes. She was looking straight at him. Then her face went white, then slowly crumpled as unbridled grief hit her.

What could he possibly do to help her? To make the pain any better? Nothing, of course, so he did the only thing he could think of. He pushed the knife Takan had just given back to him away, knelt beside her and drew her close, feeling her heart hammering. "Sonea, I'm so sorry." The words sounded weak and feeble. As she sobbed against him, he felt completely impotent.

"What it is? What's happened?" Cery asked, his voice full of worry. Akkarin had completely forgotten there were other people around them. He supposed such a reaction was worthy of an explanation.

"Lord Yikmo just reported that all of his men have been killed," he quickly recounted. "Rothen, Sonea's guardian before me, was among them." He felt Sonea tense against him at the words.

Sonea started to quiet herself then, a lot quicker than he had expected her to. He looked at her carefully, wondering why. Her eyes were closed, but he could read the expression on her face as one who has just received a heavy blow. If he knew her at all, and he did, he knew the last thing she would want to do was cry in front of a whole room of people. He wanted to get her away from them. He looked to Cery, who still appeared concerned. "Where can we sleep?" he asked.

"Through there, master," Takan pointed to the far side of the room. Akkarin glanced in the direction of Takan's gesture. From the angle at which was sitting, he couldn't see inside the room , but he hoped Takan got the idea. The look the former slave had given him on their reunion suggested that he did.

But enough of such thoughts for now. Any further explanations would have to wait, Sonea needed him now. Taking her under the elbow, Akkarin pulled Sonea to her feet. "Come on, Sonea. We've not slept a full night for weeks."

"I can't sleep," she replied shakily, but she didn't put up any fight as Akkarin led her into the bedroom Takan had pointed out, one hand in hers, the other at her back. She trembled under his fingers, and for the first time since they had met, she appeared weak. Not that he blamed her, of course. There isn't a more weakening experience than that of losing someone you love.

 _Oh, Rothen, what were you doing there?_

 _Was losing Sonea so terrible you were willing to sacrifice your life?_

 _Or did you too find yourself backed into a corner with no choices left?_

The bedroom was small, but not oppressively so. _Besides_ , he thought wryly, _anything would seem like a palace after the last few weeks we have spent in a hot desert_. Still, he couldn't help but marvel at how well Cery had done for himself- the Thief had kept that very quiet. He gently sat Sonea on the edge of the bed and squeezed her hand before releasing it.

"I'll be right back," he murmured into her ear. She nodded ever so slightly, not looking at him, just staring at empty space in front of her. It pained him to see her looking so…numb. Lost. Unanchored.

Akkarin went back to the door, and saw Cery pouring himself another glass of wine. He wondered what would be the politest way of asking to be left alone. "Could we-" he began, but the Thief waved a hand.

"It's late. I'll return early tomorrow, so we can talk about the meeting," he said, a clear indication of dismissal. Takan still stood where he had placed himself when they had first arrived. When Akkarin glanced at him, he nodded once.

Akkarin inclined his head to the young man. "Thank you, Ceryni."

He quietly closed the door behind him and walked back to the bed. Sitting down next to Sonea on the edge of the bed, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before taking her small hands in his. She didn't react at all. Her breath came slightly shakily, her eyes still red rimmed.

"Is there anything I do? Anything I can say?" He said softly. He knew there wasn't, but they were the only words he could find to say.

As he had expected, she simply shook her head slowly, jaw clenched. She was still staring down at the skirting board on the other side of the room, but he doubted she was seeing it. They sat silently for a while, she just staring, him rubbing her back slowly, watching her carefully.

"Actually, one question does spring to mind," she said, so faintly he almost didn't catch the words. He was almost pleased by this response- anything to keep her talking, to keep her leaning on him.

"Of course, name it," he replied, trying to sound encouraging.

But whatever her question was, it didn't come immediately. She opened her mouth as if to speak a couple of times, but she didn't speak. He waited quietly. He knew the words she needed to say would come.

"Why was he there?" Sonea asked eventually, turning her head slightly toward him, so he could more easily make out the haunted look in her eyes. "Of all people…It doesn't make any sense, and I'm too tired to work it out."

Akkarin sighed, remembering he had asked himself that same question but a minute or so before. "I don't know, to be honest I can't understand it either," he said regretfully. "Perhaps he volunteered- he was the kind of man who wanted to do his bit. Perhaps he was asked, seeing as the Guild will need every scrap of magical strength they can get. I'm afraid I just don't know, Sonea."

She nodded, seeming to accept that as a non-answer, but said no more. Surely there was more going around her head than just that one question.

"What are you thinking?" he asked after a few minutes' silence. He didn't want have to bear such thoughts alone.

"I am thinking…" she took a deep breath, "that it is a curious thing, that he's the one that's dead and I'm still alive. What kind of justice is that? All the things he doesn't get to do now, all the things I didn't get to say." She wept openly then, and Akkarin didn't stop her. She needed to cry. He pulled her to him, and placed soft kisses in her hair as her thin frame was wracked with sobs. What made it harder was the fact that there wasn't any solace he could offer.

Silence fell between them again. He could hear her breathing, loud in the quiet of the underground room, the breathing of someone desperately trying to bring it back under control.

He frowned as he thought back over her words, realising that he not quite understand them. Perhaps he could be of more help if he did. "You mentioned things you didn't get to say," he said. She nodded weakly against his chest. "What were they?" He asked gently, a thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

She sighed, and pushed herself back from him slightly. "I meant that…Rothen must have died thinking what everyone else thought back in the Guildhall. You saw his face. He thought I made all the wrong decisions. Perhaps he thought he made a mistake taking me in and trying to teach me. And now, now I'll never get the chance to properly explain, to explain to him why I wasn't wrong…or that he didn't make a mistake," her voice caught at the last few words, and her free hand went to her face.

Akkarin felt his heart twist. He let go of her then, dropping to his knees in front of her to meet her eyes. When she wouldn't look at him, turning ahead away from him, he took her chin gently between his finger and thumb and focused her attention on him.

"Now I want you to listen to me very carefully, Sonea. Rothen _loved_ you. I mean he really, truly loved you. You were his daughter, in everything but blood. You didn't have to explain anything to him. He would have loved you no matter what. He would never think of you as a mistake. And even if he thought you made the wrong decisions, he would have known you did so with the best of intentions. Because he _knew_ you, _and_ he loved you."

She sniffed, looking at him cautiously. "You think?"

"I know," he said gently, squeezing her knees gently.

She nodded, swallowed thickly and sniffed again. "Even so, I just wish I could have said goodbye," she whispered.

He nodded, his fingers finding hers and curling around them once more. "I know, and I would have done anything to give you that opportunity. But personally, I don't believe that people are separated forever. You will have the chance to speak to him again."

She took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she looked back at him, all the hesitation in her gaze gone. They were red rimmed eyes full of grief, but they also held a sheen of her old self- the bright, brilliant, brave Sonea he now knew so well.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked.

He rose from his haunches, letting go of her hands and stepping back from her. "For now, there's little we can do. I think we should sleep while we have the opportunity."

"I'm not sure I can sleep," she replied, wrapping her arms tightly about herself. He considered her carefully. As much as they both needed rest, perhaps sleep would have to wait a little longer.

He smiled at her softly. "Well then, if you think that's the case, I would like to lie here and learn everything there is to know about you I don't know already."

She looked at him as if he was mad as he moved to opposite side of the bed, then gave a whispered laugh.

"What makes you think that any of those things would be interesting?"

He sat on the edge and started to unlace his boots. "I didn't ask for interesting. I asked for everything. Besides, I find everything about you fascinating. I thought I'd made that obvious!"

As he turned to lie on his side on the bed and looked at her expectantly, she laughed softly again. "Fine. By I expect you to do the same in return," she said with a raised eyebrow. "You can't continue to be such an enigma."

He rolled his eyes at her than wrapped an arm round her waist, pulling back her onto the bed. "You drive a hard bargain, but I accept."

And so, they told each other everything. It seemed natural to start with their childhoods. Though vastly different- one being an orphan of the slums, the other the wealthy heir of Family Delvon, it was curious how much their stories overlapped. They had been unwanted, different, had desired so much more from life. She told him what it had been like being hunted by the Guild, he told her about what it had been like being a slave. Once again, their thoughts and feelings crossed- the sense of helplessness, horror, a feeling that death would be the only release. As he saw her face darken and a heaviness return to her expression, he told her about the pranks he and Lorlen had pulled during their university days. She looked decidedly unimpressed, and told him about the petty crimes she and Cery had indulged in. Those made him laugh. Tales they had heard, childhood fears they had defeated, members of the Guild they couldn't stand, a random selection of topics was discussed as the mood struck them as they lay there, the room growing dark. At some point they managed to find their way under the sheets, outer clothes were tossed aside.

In a pause in their conversation, she tucked her hands under her head as an extra cushion. "Tell me what's going through your head right now," she requested.

Akkarin curled a strand of her hair around his fingertip. "Beds really are the least appreciated pieces of furniture, don't you think?"

She snorted. "Really? That's the best thought you can come up with?"

"What, you asked for my thoughts at that moment! Alright then, you do better. What's going through your head right now?"

She was quiet a moment, drumming her fingers on her pillow. "Is this wrong, do you think?" she asked eventually, frowning slightly, "to... simply lie here doing nothing but talk whilst the world tears herself apart at the seams? "

He looked at her, amused. He let his finger release her hair and trail across the small frown that had appeared on her face. "No, I don't believe it to be wrong. After all, what else is there to do right now, besides drinking and worrying? We have already drunk, and I don't particularly fancy worrying."

"Akkarin, be serious," she said, giving him a meaningful look. Now he had a new thought in his head- his name on her lips might be the greatest sound he had ever heard.

But clearly she had been serious in her question. He had misjudged that. He thought about how to respond, and the answer came as easily as breathing. He reached for her, pushed them both upright, and held her close against him in front of him. He considered if his response was appropriate, and decided it was. "Alright, I'll be serious. I said in Sachaka that I didn't have a Family name or House anymore."

She nodded. "I remember."

He wrapped his hands in the hair at the nape of her neck, and spoke slowly. "Well, I was wrong. Because...because you are my Family. You are my House. My honour, or at least what is left of it, lies with you, Sonea. So no, I find no wrongdoing in anything we choose to do."

She stared at him for a good ten seconds, clearly shocked by this sudden admission. Then her expression became softened and, with her hands at his shoulders, she pushed him back down to the mattress again.

"Well argued," she murmured, kissing him softly.

A peaceful silence settled between them, the rhythm of their breathing synchronising. Akkarin assumed Sonea had fallen asleep, her head resting on his chest, her legs entwined with his. He was about to let himself do the same, his fingers grazing absentmindedly across her skin, when she spoke once more into the darkness that had taken over the room.

"Are you scared?" She pulled herself up so that she was able to look him deep in his eyes, her arms resting on his chest. He held her gentle gaze, and reached out to run a hand through her hair, then down the contour of her spine. He carefully considered how to answer her. _Be brave, or be honest?_

"Yes, I am," he said eventually, then smiled softly. "But less so than if I was on my own."

She gave him a small, sad smile in return. "I'm with you, to the end, Akkarin, whatever it holds."

This honest confession warmed his heart. He reached forward to kiss her brow. "I know you are. And you have no idea how much lighter that makes the task," he said softly. He took her face in his hands and drank in her perfect features. She blushed, but, for once, didn't look away. "But let's not worry about that just now, shall we? We made it back, Sonea. For now, we're safe. And in whatever time we have, I want to simply be grateful that we are here, together. Agreed?"

She nestled her head in the crook of his neck, and sighed as his arms settled around her. Their fingers laced together under the soft sheets, and for that one, brief, shining moment, all was right with the world.

"Agreed."

 **Not gonna lie, I wasn't planning on writing that first part with Yikmo. Then the idea struck me and it came out way more emotional than I was expecting it to be. Anyway, in happier news, I now have 200 reviews! 200?! You guys are the best. I love you. Cece xox**


	57. Oh, Mighty One

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Oh, Mighty One.

 _Akkarin! Help me! Please! Akkarin!_

Following the faltering flash of terrified thoughts, Akkarin sped through the city. He prayed to Gods he wasn't sure were there that he would reach his destination in time, not being able to use the usual landmarks of the city as they had all been smashed to pieces. He didn't think that anything could terrify him as much as what he and Sonea had just been through in Sachaka, but he was wrong- _this_ could.

Remembering her then, he felt a twinge of guilt for the way he had spoken to Sonea just minutes before, but some things can't be helped. He was sure once he had explained everything to her she would understand. Her understanding could always be relied upon. And after all, he _was_ needed. He couldn't, _couldn't,_ ignore this call. Not if it meant what he thought it did- that Lorlen was about to die. And he needed to say goodbye.

He reached the location of the thoughts, a house in the inner circle that may once have been beautiful but now only charred rubble. Stepping through a hole in what would have been the mansion's elegant façade, he noticed three men kneeling on the floor, two magicians and a novice, desperately tossing away bricks and wood away from a huge pile. He felt a wave of nausea as he realised Lorlen was under that pile. Of course he had understood through Lorlen's thoughts what had happened to him as they had charged their way into his mind, but it was quite different seeing it from the outside. He realised, as he watched their pitiful progress, that the trio must have used up all their magical strength. They would never get to Lorlen in time at that rate. Well, he could help there.

"Move away," he ordered quietly. All three men jumped at the sound of the voice behind them and turned to look at him. The two magicians stared at him in dumbstruck silence. He quickly recognised the green-robed figure as Osen, his eyes now red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears, and other magician as Dannyl, who took the Assistant's arm and all but dragged him away from the pile. The novice, a young Elyne from the look of him, was beyond Akkarin's power to recognise. Well, he was only a novice, after all. He too scrambled to get out of Akkarin's way and to move close to Dannyl's side as Akkarin slowly approached the mound of rubble.

He closed his eyes and sent his mind forth, evaluating the debris. He tried to keep his thoughts practical, like he was solving a problem in a Warrior Skills class, pushing down frantic thoughts for his friend. Carefully, so as not to hurt the person trapped underneath, he pushed all the mound away in steady waves, not moving anything too quickly so as not to disturb the earth being exposed underneath. Eventually, a familiar hand came into view. Now knowing where to direct his power, Akkarin moved the earth around the hand until an arm, chest, and head came into view. He heard Osen gasp in horror, but kept going into the entire blue-clad figure could be seen. Dirty and bruised, Lorlen could no more have got up than he could have stopped the sun from setting. Akkarin knew he was still alive, but was concerned when Lorlen didn't open his eyes or move.

 _-Lorlen?_ He sent, and Lorlen immediately turned his head in Akkarin's direction. A soft sigh of relief came from the direction of the onlookers, but Akkarin couldn't say which one of them had made it. A pang of affection and horror hit him as he met the Administrator's bruised eyes, surprisingly joyous for someone whose body was on the brink of collapse. Lorlen smiled at him gently, his lip cracking as he did so. He hadn't looked so pleased to see him in years.

 _-Hello there, old friend. Did you miss me?_

"You came back," his old friend's voice, as familiar to him as his own, managed to croak out, the relief in his words palpable.

Akkarin couldn't help but smile back, despite the war that was raging around them. "Of course I came back," he said softly, trying to contain his despair as he stared down at his broken friend. He tried to keep his tone light. "I couldn't let you have all the fun. Besides, I swore an oath, remember?"

The words of that oath hung between them in the air. _I swear before you all that all the remaining days of my life, whether many or few, will be given in service to the Guild, and to the union of these Allied Lands._ It occurred to Akkarin that, whilst he may have broken the Guild's laws- well, more than broken them, more smashed them into many pieces, he hadn't broken this most central part of his oath, and therefore the most central part of his life as a magician of the past seven years. It was odd, but that cleared his conscious a little bit. He _had_ served the Guild and Allied Lands, was doing right now, in fact. Maybe that line was kept deliberately vague so that a High Lord could offer service in whatever way was required. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so terrible a High Lord, after all.

Lorlen frowned slightly. "But…you were exiled. Didn't you feel that released you from any loyalty you had to such an oath, any loyalty you had to us?"

Akkarin allowed himself a slight chuckle, and shook his head. "Evidently not. I believe that an oath is an oath precisely because it cannot be released. And besides, oaths are not made for the times in life when it is easy to keep them, they are made for the times in life that it is hard to do so."

The corner of Lorlen's mouth twitched upward. "Of course you would see it like that, oh mighty one. You will be irritatingly magnanimous to the end."

 _Oh mighty one_. How long had it been since that pet name had been used? Years, now. A pang of regret at the lost time between them lanced through Akkarin. Oh, how he wished things could have been different. How he wished he could have been different.

As Lorlen winced in what Akkarin could feel as agonising pain through their connection by the blood ring, Akkarin moved to come to his friend's aid. He knew he couldn't do much for him, but he might be able to Heal the damage enough with Lorlen's help until more expert aid was available.

But Lorlen stopped him with an authoritative glare. "No, don't you dare come any closer," he said sharply.

Akkarin knew that voice well, one Lorlen used when he was determined not to be disobeyed. He tried to think of some way to argue his way over to his friend, but realised they didn't have time for that- he knew just how stubborn the Administrator could be, had had to learn to be. Using his mind's connection with Lorlen, he once again took in the damage done to Lorlen's body. It was enough to make him cry in horror and scream in rage. Of all people in this city, Lorlen deserved this the least. But, again, there wasn't time for such thoughts. "You're dying, Lorlen," he stated simply, hoping his request was obvious.

"You don't think I know that?" Lorlen almost chuckled, and coughed from the attempt. "But no, I won't have you waste your power on me. You will need everything you have to stop them."

"But it—" Akkarin tried to take a small step without the man noticing.

"No, Akkarin. Stop." Even now, Lorlen managed to sound as commanding as ever. Never missing anything, as ever. "Or I'll be dead before you reach me. I have just a little power left, keeping me conscious. All I have to do is use it up faster."

"Please, Lorlen," a pleading note had unintentionally come into Akkarin's voice, his hands spreading in a placatory gesture "it would only take a little magic. Just enough to keep you alive until—"

"Until the Ichani come to finish me off. No, thank you, I think I would rather die like this. Die quietly, with a friend nearby to say goodbye to." Lorlen's breathing was beginning to fail him, his voice now coming in small gasps. "You will stay, won't you?"

Akkarin crouched down so he could at least be at Lorlen's eye level. "I'm here, Lorlen. We'll face this together," he said softly, remembering these were the same words the very same man in front of him had spoken to Yikmo just two days prior.

"Thank you," Lorlen breathed. "I…I understand why you did it now, you know? Why you lied to me. Kyralia's safety was more important than our friendship. It still is. But I do want to know one thing. Why didn't you answer when I called you?"

Akkarin shook his head sadly, his heart aching. Oh, how he had wanted to. If he could only show Lorlen the strength it had taken him to resist. "I couldn't. If the Guild knew I was here, the Ichani would read it from the mind of their first victim. They would stay together. Alone, they are more vulnerable."

"Ah, I understand. It is unfortunate, but it couldn't be helped." Lorlen almost managed to sound like his official self, as if the Ichani was simply another diplomatic problem for him to solve. He then once again glared as Akkarin took another step forward. "Oh, no you don't. Tell me something else..." his pained expression clearly slightly. "Tell me about Sonea."

"She is alive. She is..." He trailed off. What to say? Perfect? The best thing he'd ever been able to call his? That the simple thought of losing her made him want to drop to his knees? None of that could be explained in the time they had left. So his sentence was left hanging in the air between them.

But somehow, Lorlen seemed to understand. "Good," he wheezed. He really didn't miss anything, did he? Akkarin was about to ask him- _how long have you known? When did you work it out? And_ how _did you know?!_ But then Lorlen's eyes drooped shut.

Akkarin felt his heart jolt- no, no he couldn't be gone. Not yet. _Just a little more time, please!_ If there were indeed any Gods above or below, they seemed to be listening in that moment, as Lorlen opened his eyes again and smiled slightly. "Can you forgive me, old friend? For not listening to you when I had the chance?" He couldn't seem to be able to move his hand, but he stretched his fingers out a little in Akkarin's direction with a slight grunt of effort.

Akkarin went to him immediately and lowered himself to the ground, taking his friend's proffered hand gently in his own. "Oh, no, no, Lorlen, please don't—" he took a deep, steadying breath. "It is _I_ that need to be asking _you_ that question." As Lorlen's seemed to be fading a little more with every passing moment, he decided to spare the man from speaking.

 _-I'm so sorry, Lorlen. I am so very, very sorry. Can you forgive me for...all this?_

Lorlen looked around the destructed space, his eyes seeming to glance over the three onlookers. Then he looked back at Akkarin and for the first time, a deep, profound sadness came into his eyes.

 _-Can you forgive me for failing the Guild? Failing you?_

Tears welled up in Akkarin's eyes.He pushed then back for now and brushed the dirt gently from Lorlen's face.

 _-No, Lorlen, you didn't fail anyone, least of all me. In fact, few in this life have gained such a victory, as to die for the thing they love the most. So, shall we forgive each other then? Part as old friends?_ Even in the quiet of mental communication, Akkarin's voice broke on the last two words.

Lorlen gave him one last, old fashioned look. He managed to squeeze Akkarin's fingers slightly.

 _-All is forgiven, my oldest and dearest friend. Be at peace. But…will you do one last thing for me?_

 _-Anything._

 _-Save our little family. They're in need their papa- their High Lord._

With that, he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. And so Lorlen of the family Paren, Administrator of the Magicians' Guild of Kyralia, and one of the greatest and kindest men to have ever graced the Guild's ornate halls, died- quietly, with a friend beside him to say goodbye to.

His hand trembling, Akkarin removed the ring from Lorlen's finger. He would have liked to have said this was purely for Lorlen's decency, to remove the thing that had caused them both so much pain, but it was also a practical move- if the Ichani found Lorlen's body, they could use the ring in all sorts of awful ways. But his mind was too stunned to do too much to think too much about them. He leaned forward and kissed Lorlen's brow. He felt tears slip down his face, but no shame or embarrassment came with them.

 _-You have my word, Lorlen. Our family will be saved. Rest easy, until we meet again. I've got this._

He rose onto his unsteady feet, bowed his head to his departed friend once more, then turned to the three men standing by. Osen's face was awash with tears that he couldn't appear to control. Akkarin wasn't surprised- he knew the level of affection the assistant had had for his master. Dannyl looked more stunned than anything. And the novice- no, Akkarin was sure he hadn't seen this one before, he looked at Akkarin with deep curiosity.

 _As if_ he _hadn't seen_ me _before. Curious. But maybe this is-_

But no, there wasn't time for such mysteries.

"Lord Osen," he said, turning his attention back to the green-robed man.

"Yes?" The whispered response came.

"You, Ambassador Dannyl and…his companion must not tell anyone I am here. If the Ichani discover that Sonea and I are here, any chance we have of defeating them will be lost. Do you understand?" his voice was calm, but authoritative. He hoped Osen, who he knew had never had much love for him, saw this as instruction from one who cared, rather than an order from someone wanting to regain power.

Osen could only nod shakily in reply. Difficult to know what he thought from that.

Dannyl took pity on him. "Yes, we understand," he replied, gripping Osen's shoulder supportively.

"Good." Akkarin moved to walk back the way he had come, but realised he hadn't told the men what they should do now- only what they shouldn't. He sighed, feeling a responsibility to Lorlen to keep his protégée safe. He placed a hand on Osen's other shoulder. "All but one of the Ichani are in the palace," he said softly. "Get out of the city while you still can. It's… what he would have wanted for you."

Without waiting for a response, he left.

 _But where do_ I _go from here?_

When he was a safe distance away from the house, he came to a halt. Finally, grief overtook him. He didn't feel ready to face anyone, or anything. He closed his eyes against the horribly heavy sensation, and leaned his forehead and hands against a burnished brick wall, breathing heavily.

Lorlen was gone. Gone. _Gone!_

Oh, what was the point anymore? Really, what was the point?

 _Save our little family. They're in need of their papa- their High Lord._

Lorlen's final words drifted back to him, as if they were being spoken once again. But those shouldn't have been his last words. Lorlen should have died an old man, safe and warm in his bed, surrounded by his children and grandchildren, a full life's worth of memories to send him on the next part of his journey. But instead, he was lying dead in a pile of bricks and mortar, with only his exiled criminal former friend to help him on his way. So much for natural justice. Kariko had won this round.

 _And I can't stop him._

Then, something happened. It had been coming on so gradually he had hardly noticed it. But then, as suddenly as waking from sleep, he felt it. A raging, burning, white hot anger. It was building from the pit of his stomach, re-energising him, pushing him, urging him back to the fight.

 _Or…can I?_

Akkarin had been angry before, of course- he had been angry when Dakova had first attacked him out in the wastes all that time ago. He had been incensed when he had been taken prisoner, enraged when he had been made a slave- not that it had helped him. He had become enflamed when he had discovered their plans to take over his home, but this. This. This was something else. To be responsible for the death of his own kin? His closest friend? His brother in everything but blood? Now his feelings were beyond anger, rage or whatever term you want to call it. He _was_ anger. He _was_ rage. He _was_ revenge.

 _Oh, yes, I can._

But he needed more than just revenge that to keep him going- man cannot survive on revenge alone, otherwise there would be nothing to live for after his justice is found. He needed something far more wholesome, lighter, stronger, hopeful. Something to light the way out of these dark thoughts. Well, that was obvious enough.

It was suddenly clear where he needed to go from here. Sending his mind inward, Akkarin made contact with the mind that was linked with his. It only took him a few seconds to recognise its location. With that, he pulled himself away from the wall and headed back in the directions of the slums to find Sonea.

 **If you need me, I'll be weeping in a puddle of my own tears for a while.**


	58. The Dice

Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Dice

When he was young, Akkarin, like many boys from the Houses, had adored war stories, the ones he had begged his old nurse to tell him at bed time and fired imagination for his dreams. They were stories of courage, defying the odds and becoming a hero. The evil side always lost, of course, and the good side always remained victorious with very few casualties, of course. It was probably the sense of excitement and adventure that wafted from those pages like a strong perfume that made Akkarin want to a Warrior, long before he joined the University. After all, who doesn't like the idea of people listening to you telling tales of your own achievements- the bloodier the better? Even for a little while after graduating, Akkarin had believed he could still be like the heroes in those stories- maybe they were a little exaggerated, but the principle was there. War is kind to good and brave people, war is kind to good and brave deeds.

I'll let you in on the secret those books don't tell you, the thing the bards are forbidden by some unwritten code to discuss- there is no joy in warfare. There is no justice in warfare. The good side suffers just as much as the bad. All war is, all war ever will be, is unnecessary blood and unnecessary pain and unnecessary death, on both sides. I say it loudly and without any hesitation- there are no victors in war, absolutely none. There are only those with the fate to live on another day, and those with the fate to die for what they hope is a meaningful cause.

But wait- there is more. You see, the bards often misrepresent fate. They make it seem like a set of rules, that if you play by the rules, you will get what you deserve, good or bad. But Fate isn't a set of rules. Fate is a set of dice. We all have no choice but to throw them, at some time or another, to cast our lot and hope that the dice are kind to us. We cannot do anything to control what the dice give us. All we can do is do the best with what the dice gives us.

It had been years since Akkarin had had to realise these truths the hard way, but he was still learning, even now. Even as Sonea stated that she was going to have to be the one to kill Inijaka using Healing. If Fate played by the rules, someone as kind and as brilliant as Sonea would never have to look at, let alone fight, a man like Inijaka- a man known even amongst Ichani as a lover of debauchery. Even Dakova had had to keep a close eye on his female slaves around him. Dakova did not care to share bed slaves, after all.

"Well, I don't like it, but you're right. Inijaka will recognise me." He turned to look at her solemnly before the once grand door in the once grand house in which they found themselves. "We don't have time to come up with a better plan."

She seemed to realise the implication of what he was saying, realised he was agreeing with her, and her face paled slightly. She nodded slowly and looked away through the window to the courtyard, thinking through what she had to do.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Will you be alright?"

She blinked and looked up at him again, nodding. "Yes, of course I will be."

He studied her carefully- yes, she was scared, but she was also determined. He had to trust in that. There wasn't anything else to trust in, after all. He reached and opened the door to the street outside.

"I will be watching," he told her. "If it doesn't work, shield. We'll fight him openly instead."

She nodded again, and rolled her shoulders.

And so, together, they tossed their dice.

She walked out of the door quietly in one swift movement, looking around the courtyard carefully. He noticed her jump suddenly when three figures darted out in front of her. Three very familiar figures, to him at least. Well, one of them was pretty unmissable. Even now, running for his life, he managed to look regal.

- _Well, you could have told me it was the King!_ She sent him.

That slip of information might have been deliberate on his part- of course he had known it was Merin who was hiding away in here, but he didn't want Sonea having a crisis of conscious at this point in the game.

Merin and his two advisors seemed even more surprised to see her than she was to see them- well, that was probably to be expected. The King had ordered her to leave his country and never come back. When they continued to stand and stare at her, she urged them on with a command. "Go. Leave!" She jabbed a finger in the direction of the door she had come through, and without hesitation they hurried toward it, the spell that had been petrifying them broken.

Merin came through bursting through the door first, and couldn't help but immediately notice Akkarin standing on the other side. They stared at each other for a good few silent seconds, Akkarin decided it was on Merin to speak first- after all, _he_ was the one whose life was being saved.

"I thought I must have gone mad when I saw…her, but it turns out I didn't," the King said eventually, a tremor of disbelief in his voice. He looked…old. So much older than when they had last spoken at the trial, and that was only a handful of few weeks prior. Dark shadows hung beneath his eyes, and his skin had a sallow complexion. Akkarin wouldn't have been surprised to spot grey in his hair. Those recent weeks clearly hadn't been kind to the sovereign- but there was something slightly satisfying about that thought.

 _Good. Now you finally realise I was telling you the truth._

"Her name is Sonea and no, not yet, Your Majesty," he said simply.

"You didn't reply to any of our calls. Why?"

Akkarin could have decided to respond with the same accusatory tone, but decided now was really not the time. "Because I didn't want to let the Ichani know I was here. You lot would have given the game away." Only an hour before, Akkarin had been explaining the same thing to Lorlen, and his heart beat painfully.

 _Oh, Lorlen._

"But—"

Akkarin held up a hand to silence the monarch. "Actually, your Majesty, as much as I would like to make small talk, there's a battle to save your life going on that I need to be focusing on." He pointed back in the direction he and Sonea had come from. "Go that way. A guide will meet you and take you somewhere safe." He took a deep breath and focussed his mind inward.

 _-Takan?_

 _-Master._

 _-Tell Ravi to prepare himself. He's about to have a guest he never would have dreamed of receiving._

 _-Is this wise?_

 _-Do you have a better idea?_

Silence came from the Sachakan.

 _-Very well, Master._

When he returned his attention to the outside world, he saw Merin gave him a very measuring look. He then nodded. "Very well, we can discuss it another time. Come," he barked at the two advisors, and they hurried after him.

"Akkarin?"

Akkarin looked back at the man, hoping very much the irritation he felt wasn't obvious on his face. Merin bowed his head ever so slightly. "Thank you." Akkarin nodded in return, and then turned his attention back to Sonea.

His heart leapt painfully at the scene before him. Inijaka had pulled Sonea toward him with a force shield that he had wrapped around behind her, her arms pinned to her sides. If she was feigning the terror on her face, she was doing a remarkably good job. Inijaka pulled her closer, regarding her form with a lecherous sneer.

"So there _are_ a few Kyralian women here," he said in a crooning voice. Sonea, very wisely, didn't say anything in reply, just stared at the Ichani steadily. Akkarin could see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed heavily even from this distance. As the Ichani's hands went under her shirt, Akkarin ground his teeth in anger. He had seen far too much of this kind of behaviour before. Why didn't she do anything more than jump slightly in alarm?! Surely she of all people, someone who had had to fight off this kind of man before, knew what Inijaka was thinking?

- _Fight him!_ He sent. The words seemed to waken something in her. She blinked, shook her head ever so slightly and pushed Inijaka away with a blast of magic. He stumbled, and Sonea used the opening to attack him again and again. But then he rediscovered his ground, stood upright and attacked back, sending Sonea back a few paces. But still he had that awful smile on his face.

Inijaka chuckled nastily. "So they _were_ robes I felt under that shirt. I wondered where all the magicians went."

So, the rues was already up- that had taken Inijaka less time than Akkarin had bargained for. He watched as the pair stood staring at each other for a moment, considering what Sonea could do now to still win this using the method she had suggested. From the tight expression on her face, she was doing the same thing.

- _I'm outside the door. What do you want me to do?_ He asked. He had always hated being a bystander.

 _-Wait,_ the answer immediately came.

 _Wait for what?!_ He wanted to scream at her, but again, he told himself to trust her. Despite her obvious clear dislike of it, she was actually quite good at Warrior Skills, once she had been given proper instruction. But this wasn't Regin in the arena surrounded by a shield he had made to protect her. _No. You have to trust her,_ a small voice said inside him.

When Inijaka struck again, she appeared to stumble and step back. He grinned, and repeated the attack, until she had stepped back all the way to the courtyard wall, where she stared at her attacker with obvious fear. Then her shield went down, and Akkarin could only hope she knew what she was doing. He had already lost Lorlen today, he wasn't sure he could lose his heart as well.

 _-This had better be a very clever plan._

Inijaka was clearly enjoying Sonea's hopelessness. He sidled up in front of her slowly, taking his time in unsheathing his curved knife and delicately placing it between his front teeth, giving him a strange sort of evil grin. He then moved to grab her wrist. She darted to the side in an attempt to dodge his clubbed fingers, but Inijaka easily grabbed her, laughing as he did so. As he pushed her up against the wall by her throat, she grabbed the wrist holding and closing her eyes. From the connection that he had with her through her ring, Akkarin realised what she was about to do.

 _Oh no, no, no. That isn't going to work, Sonea!_

He could only watch on in agonising fear as he him lower the blade to the exposed skin of her arm, her eyes still closed. Then the blade run the metal across her flesh, and at once her eyes snapped open. An audible gasp of pain came from her, but then anger stole across her face. Oh, Akkarin knew that face well by now. It was the look Sonea gave when _she was done._ She glared Inijaka down, then closed her eyes, a deep frown creasing her forehead. A few seconds later, Inijaka made a similar sound to the one she had herself had gasped out, his face contorting in pain in a most ugly fashion. He clamped a hand to his chest, then looked up at her. The look that he gave her then was terrible. His other hand's grip on her tightened, and Sonea hissed, giving a quiet _but very real_ whimper as she slumped slightly- clearly the drawing of power had stared.

And now Akkarin was done.

Unable to just watch from a distance anymore, he pulled the heavy wooden door open as silently as he could and moved closer from behind the Ichani. Just as he was planning on how to draw Inijaka's attention away from Sonea, he heard made the man made a strained gargle as he completely let go of Sonea and clutched at his chest, the knife dropping from his fingers. The instant he let go of her, Sonea was grabbing at him. She stooped to pick up the knife and slash it across the man's neck. Blood sprayed from the man's throat in a most vile of fashions, but it stopped once Sonea put a hand against the wound. Then, in a few short seconds, it was over. Inijaka's lifeless body dropped to the floor. Sonea, her back still against the wall the Ichani had pushed her against, lowered herself to the floor. She tossed the knife aside and looked at her bloodied hands and clothes with horror. Her breath came in shaky pants and her whole body trembled. Her thoughts were coming so quickly one after the other it was difficult for him to follow them coherently through her blood ring. But her general feelings were crystal clear- relief at having survived, but disgust at what she had had to do.

 _What am I becoming? Oh Gods, what is happening to me?!_

Then she looked up and saw him.

It was a strange moment to realise to realise you're in love with someone- when they have just ended someone's life, their face is covered in that person's blood, but there it was. He was completely and utterly, irrevocably and uncharacteristically, in love with this young woman. This final fall wasn't because of who she was or what she had done- it was because of what she had being willing to give up so that other people could live.

A clear, single thought came to him through their connection. _After it's all over, I will never use this power again. Not ever._

"I felt the same when I returned from Sachaka." He murmured without really thinking, She continued to stare at him, not saying anything. He held out a hand. She took it and, with some effort on both their parts, they managed to drag her back to her feet. When she swayed slightly, he put a hand under an elbow to support her. She looked down at herself again, a small sigh of disgust escaping her. He looked around, thinking quickly. "There's bound to be something in the house for you to change into," he said, gesturing at the main building that this courtyard was a part of. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

She nodded tightly, then seemed to remember something.

"The King?" she asked.

"I sent him to the house across the road, and Takan warned Ravi to be prepared to receive him."

Despite everything, a slight noise of amusement came from her. "The King rescued by the Thieves? Now that's something I'd like to see."

He chuckled softly in reply. "I'm sure there will be some interesting consequences."

He took her hand in his and lead the way into the house. Though the outside had been badly damaged, it appeared that interior was relatively unscathed- well, accept for the enormous chandelier that must have crashed to the floor from the forces exerted on the brickwork.

He turned to Sonea "Upstairs would probably the best place to—" he stopped when he realised she wasn't listening. "What is it?"

She was looking around the space with wide-eyed amazement. Then her attention snapped back to him. "Oh, sorry," she said, blushing slightly. "It's just…well, I have never been in any of these kind of houses."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You've seen the Guild, though, which is probably the grandest place in Kyralia."

"Oh I know, but that's not a _home._ This," she gestured, "people call this their home."

He nodded slowly. "Funny you should say that- I always thought of the Guild as the first proper home I ever had."

She smiled crookedly. "Anyway, what were you going to say before?"

"Oh, just that the best place to look for a change of clothes would probably be upstairs. I'll wait here and keep a look out."

She nodded. "Alright, I won't be long."

As she quickly climbed the sweeping staircase, he sat down one of the ornate chairs often found in the entrance rooms of these great houses. It seemed to be a strange place to be simply sitting, as a war was raging around him.

As he waited, he considered how well the battle was going so far. Many, many Guild magicians were dead- and if they weren't dead, they were completely out of magical strength. All was not lost, however. Kariko had not worked out the he or Sonea had returned to the city. That meant they still had the element of surprise. The remaining Ichani were also still very much working on their own projects- years spent in isolation in the Sachakan Wastes had not prepared them for a fight where they would need to work together. They were using their power randomly, with no fixed strategy of attack. That could work to the Guild's advantage.

 _If Balkan has enough sense to realise it…_

A sound behind him altered him to Sonea returning and he turned to see her coming back down the stairs, clean clothed and skin cleansed of all blood stains. Even now, in the midst of all this horror, even after all that had already passed between them, she was able to make his heart skip when he saw her.

As she made it to the bottom step, she met his gaze with a small smile and expression of determination. Gone was the look of hopelessness and horror from before. She knew what she needed to do. "Right, let's go save our home, then."

He nodded, and followed her out. It seemed Fate wasn't quite done with them yet. Onto the next roll.

 **GUYS if any of you are Game of Thrones people (and if not WHY NOT?!) and have accounts,** _ **PLEASE**_ **DM me! I genuinely can't believe it's over, I have so many feelings and I need to talk them through with y'all. Hit me up. xoxo**


	59. One Brief Shining Moment

Chapter Fifty-Nine: One Brief Shining Moment

 _Each evening, from mid-Winter to Mid-Winter,_

 _Before you drift to sleep upon your cot,_

 _Think back on all the tales that you remember,_

 _Of Camelot._

 _Ask every person if he's heard the story._

 _And tell it strong and clear if they have not!_

 _That once that was that fleeting wisp of glory,_

 _Called Camelot._

It was still possible to feel him in here- even now. Lorlen had spent so much time in this room that his personality was almost imprinted in the heavy wallpaper. If you listened closely, you could almost hear his friend's laughter echoing off the office walls. Going to the desk, Akkarin looked at the many pieces of paper that were scattered over it, Lorlen's neat handwriting covering most. Letters, instructions, proposals- Lorlen really had carried out his Office with distinction. Pushing aside a half-drunk cup of sumi, Akkarin picked up a document that seemed to be the most recently written- a list of tasks for Osen. It wasn't finished- the last sentence left uncompleted, an ink stain on the last word suggesting that the note had been pushed away with haste. Quite the metaphor.

Akkarin sighed, and dropped the note back onto the desk. He then pulled off the outer clothes that were covering his robes and looked down at himself. It seemed like an age since he had worn them, but they felt…right. He suddenly felt more powerful, more ready, more…at home. He was suddenly very appreciative of Cery's plan, and felt a niggle of guilt for doubting it. Cery had clearly known something that he had not- if they were to attempt to destroy the Ichani, wearing these, his own robes, was the way to do it.

He realised suddenly that he was being watched from the other side of the room. Sonea now too stood in black robes. He thought they suited her surprisingly well. She may not have officially graduated, but she earned the right to wear full magicians' robes as much as any of those who currently did. She was looking at him with a curious expression.

He smiled at her and turned to face her properly. "Stop leering at me."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Me? Leering? What an idea."

He chuckled softly. She always had a remarkable way of breaking the tension. Then, with a sickening jolt, he realised that this might be the last true conversation they ever had. If that were true, it needed to be a little more meaningful than an exchange of banter. He moved close to her and, with her eyes wide and solemn on him, took her face in his hands. "Sonea, if I don't—"

Before he could finish, he felt her finger on his lips, as she had done on more than one occasion previously. She then reached up onto the balls of her feet and kissed him. Without any conscious thought required from him, his arms gathered her closer. She then pulled her lips away from his and sighed, resting her forehead against his. "Don't say it," she breathed. "Please…don't say it."

His hand drifted down to her jaw to the softness of her neck. "If I could send you far away, I would," he said, his voice coming out far more shakily than he expected it would. "But I know you'd refuse to go. Just…" he hesitated for just a second. Words he desperately wanted to say, feelings he desperately wanted to own suddenly lodged themselves in his throat. _Should he say it?_ _Should he risk it?_ The answer came to him immediately- of course he should. There may never be another opportunity. "Just don't do anything impulsive. I watched the first woman I loved die…I don't think I could survive watching the second."

She stiffened for a second in his hold then pulled back to look up at him. At first she seemed to be evaluating him to see if she believed his words. Then surprise, but also joy, shone from her face. "I love you, too," she said simply. No other words were needed.

As the words left her lips and settled in his mind, a peace calmed him. He could help but smile broadly at her words, the most welcome words anyone can ever hear from another, leaned forward and kissed her deeply. He felt her lips curl into a smile under his as kissed him back with equal fervour. Just as her hands reached themselves around his neck, a barking voice filled Akkarin's mind.

 _-Akkarin! Akkarin! What a pretty place you have here._

As the image of the Guild's familiar entrance was sent into his mind, Akkarin realised it was time. And that they were out of time. He felt Sonea's fingers slide down to his chest.

"They're here," he murmured into the softness of her hair. He closed his eyes and breathed in her sweet scent, using it to bolster his courage.

She nodded. "The Arena?" she asked.

"Only as a last resort," he replied. He took her hands from his chest, brought them tenderly to his lips, then gave her a weak smile.

"Together?" he asked softly, pushing back a strand of hair from her face.

She nodded, returning his small smile, linking their fingers together. "Together."

The Ichani had, until this point, left the Guild surprisingly untouched. Perhaps Kariko liked the idea of keeping it as it was in order to feel he had properly taken over and so had banned the other Ichani from blasting it to ashes. Or maybe he was simply saving it until last. Either way, it gave Akkarin a strange sort of strength to know that his home was still in one piece and worth saving. As he and Sonea emerged from the darkness of the University, Akkarin's stomach clenched as he saw Kariko patiently waiting on the other side of the University grounds, arms crossed across his chest and an evil smile on his lips, two Sachakans standing slightly behind him.

Suddenly, an image of himself and Sonea from above entered his mind, coupled with a sense of Balkan's strong personality.

 _-If we can sense this, so can the Ichani,_ Sonea sent.

 _-Yes- block the images out,_ he replied quickly _. They'll distract you._

 _-But it will alert us to any trick the Ichani try,_ she argued.

 _-And warn the Ichani of ours._

 _-Oh._ She seemed to consider that. _Should you tell Balkan to stop?_

He understood her concern, but chose to overrule it.

 _-No. The Guild should see this. They might learn—_

But their conversation was cut short by a voice Akkarin had hoped never to hear again. "Akkarin. It's been too long."

"Kariko," he replied. "It's not been long enough."

Kariko let out a bark of laughter. "Still as witty as ever, I see. I also see you've brought your apprentice. Do you intend to trade her for your life?" He gave Sonea a disturbingly evaluative glance, then nodded to himself. "I might consider taking her. I never liked my brother's taste in slaves, but he did show me that Guild magicians can be surprisingly entertaining."

Akkarin heard Sonea take in a sharp breath, but he was proud that she held her ground. He forced himself not to clench his fists in anger. "Does my body look dead to you, Kariko?" he asked.

Kariko grinned nastily, his gold teeth flashing in the evening light. "Not yet, slave. Not yet."

"Then the answer to your question should be obvious. Keeping Sonea would be no better decision than keeping me, and Dakova was a fool for doing so. But then again, I shouldn't have been surprised by that, he was always making stupid mistakes, after all. It is hard to understand how a man with such power could have so little grasp of politics or strategy. I guess that is why he was Ichani- and why he kept me."

Kariko turned to one of his companions and exchanged a smirk. "You?" he said, turning back to Akkarin. "I don't think so." He then took one menacing step forward. "If you are such a master of strategy, oh great High Lord, then why are you here? You must know you can't win."

"Can't we?" Akkarin gestured around them. "Look around you. You cast a pretty lonely figure now. Where are all your allies that you managed to persuade to come and die for you?"

Kariko shrugged non-committedly. "Dead, I suppose. And you killed them?"

Akkarin smiled softly. "Some."

Kariko chuckled nastily at that. "You must be worn out, then. What a perfect end to our conquest. I will avenge my brother's death, and at the same time Sachaka will finally have revenge for what your Guild to our land."

And with that, Kariko sprang up a shield and struck.

Akkarin quickly wrapped a shield around himself and Sonea and sent three strikes in return of equal strength to Kariko's. He focused all his energy on the Ichani leader- if he fell, the others would quickly follow suit. This seemed to confuse Kariko, though, whose expression darkened as he quickly said something to his companions.

 _-Strike Kariko from beneath,_ he sent to Sonea.

She did so immediately, and Akkarin enjoyed the look of annoyance on Kariko's face as he had to side step to avoid Sonea's heatstrike. He wondered what angered Kariko most- the fact the was forced to give up ground or that he was being attacked by a woman?

Hoping it was the latter, he reached out to Sonea with his mind again.

 _-Keep striking at Kariko from all directions,_ he instructed, and Sonea gave the slightest nod of agreement.

As they rained down attack after attack on Kariko, their adversary eventually stopped striking back. But just as Akkarin was starting to allow himself the hope that they might, just _might,_ be able topull this off, he felt a vibration in the ground beneath them. Those vibrations became stronger until the earth was quaking at their feet. In the corner of his eye he saw Sonea stumble slightly, and he quickly grabbed her arm before she fell. He cursed quietly to himself, realising what Kariko had forced them to do. Still, it wasn't the end- not yet.

 _-Hold the shield,_ he told her, as he created a disc of power beneath her. She did so, a look of tension on her face as he lifted them into the air and moved them back to a safer distance. As he set them down and saw the Ichani stalking toward them, he immediately started striking at them again.

As he continued to batter Kariko and his followers with strikes, he noticed a shift in the shield that Sonea was holding. It was weakened in parts, and only strengthened in parts when it was being hit with strikes. A daring strategy- but then again, something ridiculously daring was probably needed to win this.

 _-Be careful, Sonea._

She didn't react to that, her attention fully and solely on the Ichani, until a shout from above startled her.

"LOOK TO THE GATES!" Balkan's magically amplified voice echoed around them.

Sonea turned and immediately strengthened the shield just as the heavy iron of the Guild gates was about to fall upon them. Akkarin winced at the energy it must have taken her to do that. It was time for the second stage of his battle strategy- the last resort.

 _-When I say so, go to the Arena,_ he sent to Sonea. _I will hold them while you take its power…wait…_ he evaluated the strikes that were being sent their way carefully. Perhaps the Arena's power wasn't needed after all… _The Ichani are weakening._

She looked at the Ichani carefully, then glanced back at him speculatively, but didn't say anything as she followed him toward the Ichani. Kariko held his stare malevolently, a look that made him so much like his brother, Akkarin almost stopped walking. But he didn't.

Then a loud, painful, piercing force attempted to batter its way into his mind. He tossed it aside with ease, but the wince on Sonea's face suggested she hadn't been able to do so. She sent a questioning thought at him.

 _-Mindstrike. Shut it out._

The pain of the strike echoed across to him through the blood ring.

 _-How?!_ She asked, sounding not a little desperate.

 _-Like-_

Then he heard her gasp. He was about to turn to her, but something stopped him.

Pain.

Terrible, awful, pain, coming from his chest.

Pain he had never experienced the like of before.

It was then that he looked down and saw the knife buried in his heart.

 _Oh._

The hand he had reached out to Sonea dragged them both to the ground with a heavy force.

" _Akkarin!"_ The acute desperation in her voice was strangely humbling. To have someone scream their care for you so profoundly, it was truly moving. As her fingers came to pull the hand that he had automatically wrapped itself around the knife away, he grabbed her wrists to stop her.

"Not yet," he managed to wheeze out. She looked at him as if he was mad.

He then heard a chuckle from not very far away. "So, that's where I left my knife. So good of you to find it for me."

He heard Sonea curse Kariko violently. She was staring at him with wide eyes and an ashen complexion. She wasn't even shielding. Far, far above them, strikes were being rained down on the Ichani.

 _Balkan. So you weren't done with me after all._

A dying mind is, more often than not, an irrational, chaotic mind. And for some unknown reason, Akkarin's mind decided to use this moment of watching Balkan's strikes to remind him of the Epic of Camelot. Maybe it was because he had had to watch his beloved city being destroyed. Maybe it was the idea that he had allowed himself to hope to early that something so perfect as defeating the Ichani would actually be achieved. Or maybe it was because we all have to fight for our idea of a perfect vision of how things could be, should be. A perfect alignment of all important aspects of life. We all fight, all day, ever day, for our version of Camelot. This day was no different. Akkarin couldn't fight, not like this, but someone else could for him.

"Sonea," he said, trying to bring her attention away from him and back to the battle.

"I'll Heal you," she said, trying to sound calm, but her voice caught in her throat.

Suddenly, Akkarin understood Kariko's amusement. He thought he was so very, very clever. He wondered if Kariko had dreamt this plan for his demise up in the middle of a hot, vengeful night in the middle of the Wastes. Because now, now Kariko thought he had forced Akkarin in choosing. He knew, he must have always known deep down, that he couldn't win this fight, but he was going to take as much with before he was killed.

 _It's me or the Guild._

What Kariko would never understand was that this was the easiest choice in the world.

This was his Camelot- right here. It was his country, his city, his Guild, and the love of his life. It was all right here. And he would whatever was necessary to defend it.

As Sonea attempted to escape his grip, he only held her tighter. "No!" he said to her. "If you do, we may lose. Fight them first. Then Heal me. I can hold on like this for now."

Her expression was awful- it was clear her conscience was being ripped in two. "But what if—"

He knew what she would say before the question fully left her lips. "Then we will all die anyway. I will send you my power. You must fight. Look up, Sonea!" She did so, and saw the strikes flaring above them. "You're not even shielding, Sonea."

He reached for her with his mind, wanting to feel her warm, gentle presence one last time.

 _-Take my power. Strike while he's distracted. Don't let everything we've done and suffered for come to nothing._

She nodded, and, as she turned to face their attackers one last time, her expression slowly changed. Gone was the desperation and the horror. Now only a hard resilience remained. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. As he sensed what she was going to do through the blood ring, he allowed himself a small smile.

Yes, that would do it. It was all going to be alright. Sonea was going to save the Guild.

He sent her the last of the power that he had- because no parent spares anything to save the life of their family. They might have driven him mad, sent him into exile and never know how much he did for them, but by the eye, he _loved_ them as well as any papa.

For a moment, though, he felt a brief sadness. So maybe, thanks to Sonea, _his_ Camelot did get to survive- he just wouldn't be around to see it. What a shame all good things must end.

But that was wrong, he realised, as watched a catastrophic shower of strikes light the sky above him. Because if you read his words carefully, you will realise that the unknown poet who wrote about Camelot wasn't sad at its demise at the end of his verses, he was simply proud that it once had been, even for a short while. And so when it comes down to it, when it really comes down to it, it doesn't matter if our perfection, our Camelot, only gets to exist in that one brief shining moment, it matters that it _did_ exist. And for Akkarin, that moment was now. It was the idea of living in safety in the Guild, with no Ichani to hurt his family, and with the woman he loved more than anything by his side. At least he got have it, just once. It was all here, right h-


	60. Sunrise

Chapter Sixty: Sunrise.

It was early- very early, in fact. A murky half-light still covered Imardin in a sleepy haze. But it wasn't destined to last much longer. The birds that were nesting in the Guild's gardens, miraculously untouched by the attempted Ichani Invasion of less than a year prior, were starting to herald in the new day with their chorus.

Yes, it was indeed a new day.

A certain young black magician hadn't yet slept, though. And, considering the new role that had just been appointed to her, she probably wouldn't be for a little while yet.

But she didn't mind, despite the bone weariness that dragged at her. In fact, she was enjoying being alone for the first time in what felt like months. She probably wasn't wrong, in reality. One by one, magician by magician, everyone had drifted away, now that the excitement of the last twelve hours had dissipated and everything was settled. The world, once again, was quiet and at peace.

Then she felt the slightest of movements against her, and she remembered she wasn't really alone, and wouldn't need to be again. Not for a long, long while.

She looked down at the bundle she had cradled in a soft embrace in her arms. She gently brushed the dark tufts of hair that covered the top of an impossibly soft head. As the baby snuffled contentedly in a quiet sleep, she felt a serenity she hadn't felt in...well, ever, if she was being honest with herself. She had _never,_ not ever, felt this way before. There was such strength to be found, such peace to bathe in, when you love someone this much. As the emotion engulfed her, holding her tight and safe, she felt unable to take it in. She knew she would need a lifetime to get used to this feeling. Luckily for her, she had such time.

She had thought until this new day that, by now, she had been lucky enough to experience every kind of love that there was on offer. The love one has for a friend, for family, for a lover... Looking down at this most precious of all gifts, she realised she had been completely and utterly wrong. This, right here in her arms, was a whole new side to life, to love, she had never known existed. If you think about it, is there anyone other your child that you would lay down your life for after meeting for the first time?

Because this was _her_ son.

 _Their_ son.

That thought brought a tightness to her throat, and the all-too-familiar chill of an unbearable loss and loneliness stole over her. As much as she felt a well-needed joy at this new stage in her life, she couldn't help but let inescapable fear and grief tinge it. She had not prepared for this. This was something they had never even got close to discussing. The task of raising a child alone, with both the pain of loss and the weight of her new responsibilities upon her, suddenly seemed impossible. She felt a familiar prick in the back of her eyes as she brought her son's face closer to her own.

 _-I am so scared of letting you down. Letting both of you down._

Then a flash in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

She realised the blinds hadn't quite been shut properly, and the source of the light must be coming from outside. Curious, she brushed her tears away and, with not a little effort, pulled herself from the bed and hobbled to the window. Pulling the blind up, she was greeted with the site of the dawning sun. The shrouds of darkness were starting to lift, and she felt a healing warmth on her skin. An easterly wind blew through the trees just outside the window. She closed her eyes and breathed it all in, sensing the light behind her eyelids.

 _-I'm right here. Every step of the way, I'll be right here. I promise, my half-trained, disobedient one._

She opened her eyes again when the baby started to grizzle. She shushed him gently and rocked him until he was once again settled. She smiled softly to herself as she stroked the edge of the tiny foot that had peeped out from under the blanket.

"We're going to be alright, you know," she whispered to him. "You and me, together, we're going to be just fine. It's going to be hard sometimes, maybe even a lot of the time, but we'll get by. Because we're brave, my little one. It's what we're known for. I'm going to teach you how to be brave, and kind and true. And then one day, when you're ready, I will tell you the story of a man who was all those things, right to the very end, and then gave me you. It's a good story, as you can imagine."

When she looked out the window again, the sun had almost made it above the horizon. This really was a new day.

And just as a new dawn will always follow even the darkest of nights, life goes on. Because it has to.

That thought reminded her of something Jonna had told her the other day. She had discovered, from some travelling merchants at the Marina, that the Elyne language had dozens of words to describe the same weather patterns. An example Jonna had given, with some amusement, was that they had over twenty words for 'sunrise'. A winter sunrise, an ocean sunrise, a scarlet sunrise, the list went on. There was even one for a sunrise after a storm- _what was that word for that one again?_

"I had a feeling I ought to check you were resting, clearly I know you too well," a voice she loved dearly said in a hushed tone.

She turned to see a purple-clad magician standing in the doorway, and smiled as his expression of concern turned to one of wonder as he looked at her son. She looked down at him too, and gazed into the immensely dark eyes that now studied her with quiet curiosity.

"Clearly. But I couldn't resist such a spectacle."

When he looked at her questioningly, she beckoned him over and nodded to the new day before them.

They stood quietly together for a time, sentinels witnessing the birth of this brave new day, the start of a glorious new age. The age of the storm-defeating sun. _What was that word Jonna had used?_

Our heroine's companion reached out to stroke the baby's face tenderly with a finger. "So, what are you going to call him?"

 _Oh, yes, that was it._

Sonea turned to Rothen and, very carefully, placed her most treasured possession in his arms.

"His name is Lorkin."

 _Fin._

 **Well, what can I say? For once in my life, words fail me. This little journey we have taken together has been absolutely incredible. It has been a joy and an absolute pleasure to do this with you. Thank you, thank you to each and every one of you. For reading, for reviewing, for sticking with it. You're all treasures. Before this story was even completed, it had over 13,000 views and 210 reviews- for a tiny little fandom, that's incredibly impressive. My writing has improved so much, and you helped with that, you really did. I will be back soon, you have my word. Until then, ALL MY LOVE, Cece xox**

 **P.S. Wanna know when I am back? 'Follow' me as an author. No pressure… ;)**


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